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THE RACE 











/ 

HANS BRINKER 

OR 

Cl) e /ov 

/ 'j 

A STORY OF LIFE IN HOLLAND 

BY 

MARY MAPES DODGE 

Hein ^mstertiam lEtiftinn 

ILLUSTRATED BY ALLEN B. DOGGETT 


NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 
1902 


Copyright, 1865, 1875, 1893, 1896, 
By Mary Mapes Dodge. 


By Transfer 
P. O. Dept. 
Mar 23 06 



Onttcrsttg Press: 

John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 



I 


i 

# 




4 




PREFACE 



HE Story of Hans Brinker, or of any boy born and bred 


in Holland, cannot be fitly told without including some- 
thing of the story of Holland itself, — of its history, its oddities, 
and the leading characteristics of its heroic and thrifty people. 
All these must be borne in mind, for some of the traits peculiar 
to his race are ingrained in every Hollander, young or old, and 
Holland is as different from Elsewhere as can be imagined. 

Therefore, necessary and careful descriptions of Dutch life 
and customs have been given in the narrative, and many of 
the incidents are drawn directly from life. Even the won- 
derful experiences of Raff Brinker are founded strictly upon 
fact. 

While acknowledging my obligations to many well-known 
writers on Dutch history, literature and art, I turn with espe- 
cial gratitude to two kind friends, natives of Holland, who, 
after their marriage, had taken up their abode in this country. 
With generous zeal, they patiently answered questions, and 
took many a backward glance at their country for my sake, 
seeing it as it looked, years ago, when the humble home of 
the Brinkers crouched by the sheltering dike in sunlight and 
shadow. 

It was my tardy good fortune to visit Holland not long after 
this book was written, and see with my own eyes the land I 
had tried to picture for my readers. The Brinker cottage 


VI 11 


Preface 


was empty, and many things in Holland had changed since the 
days when Hans and his little sister skated on the frozen ‘‘ Y.” 
But, to my joy, every detail of the earlier picture of the coun- 
try was verified. Holland was still wonderful, — in fact, more 
wonderful ; for time only increased the marvel of its not being 
washed away by the sea. 

Its cities have grown, and, in some of them, national cos- 
tumes have given place to the conventional European dress of 
the day. A few of its peculiarities have been brushed away 
by contact with other nations ; but it is Holland still, and always 
will be; full of oddity, courage and industry, — the pluckiest 
little country on earth. 

Through the liberality of the publishers, this story of Dutch 
life is now presented in a more beautiful form than ever be- 
fore. Mr. Allen B. Doggett, who made a journey to Holland 
for the express purpose of illustrating this latest and best edition 
of the story, has done his work with rare skill and discretion 
and appreciative fidelity to nature. 

While thanking the illustrator for his artistic and sympathetic 
work, I must again express my gratitude to the publishers, the 
critics, and, above all, the boys and girls of America, England, 
France and Holland for the kindness they have shown toward 
this simple story of Hans and Gretel and the Silver Skates. 


M. M. D. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Hans and Gretel i 

II. Holland lo 

HI. The Silver Skates 25 

IV. Hans and Gretel find a Friend 36 

V. Shadows in the Home 46 

VI. Sunbeams ^4 

VII. Hans has his Way 61 

VHI. Introducing Jacob Foot and his Cousin .... 66 

IX. The Festival of St. Nicholas 73 

X. What the Boys saw and did in Amsterdam . . 84 

XI. Big Manias and Little Oddities 97 

XH. On the Way to Haarlem 107 

XIH. A Catastrophe 113 

XIV. Hans 118 

XV. Homes 125 

XVL Haarlem — The Boys hear Voices 132 

XVII. The Man with Four Heads 141 

XVIII. Friends in Need 147 

XIX. On the Canal 156 

XX. Jacob Foot changes the Flan 165 

XXI. Mynheer Kleef and his Bill of Fare .... 173 

XXII. The Red Lion becomes Dangerous ...... 177 

XXIII. Before the Court 194 

XXIV. The Beleaguered Cities ......... 198 

XXV. Leyden . 205 


X 


Contents 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXVI. The Palace and the Wood . 213 

XXVII. The Merchant Prince and the Princess . . . 217 

XXVIII. Through the Hague 233 

XXIX. A Day of Rest 242 

XXX. Homeward Bound 246 

XXXI. Boys and Girls 251 

XXXH. The Crisis 261 

XXXHI. Gretel and Hilda 272 

XXXIV. The Awakening 280 

XXXV. Bones and Tongues 286 

XXXVI. A New Alarm 290 

XXXVH. The Father’s Return 295 

XXXVHI. The Thousand Guilders 302 

XXXIX. Glimpses 308 

XL. Looking for Work 312 

XLI. The Fairy Godmother 320 

XLH. The Mysterious Watch 328 

XLIII. A Discovery 338 

XLIV. The Race 349 

XLV. Joy in the Cottage 370 

XLVI. The Mystery of Thomas Higgs 379 

XLVH. Broad Sunshine 383 

XLVIII. Conclusion . . 390 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

The Race Frontispiece 

The Wooden Skates xv 

Fishing through the Ice i 

Hans and Gretel 3 

A Pair of Skaters 5 

Their Mother’s Tall Form stood in the Doorway . . 7 

Lower than the Level of the Sea 10 

A Home on a Canal-Boat i i 

Even the Horses wear a Wide Stool on each Hoof . . 12 

Children at Play in Holland 13 

The Pole of a Dutch Wagon 14 

A Dutch Water-Carrier 15 

On the Dunes 17 

Windmills along the Canal . 19 

A Dutch Prisoner forced to pump or drown . . . . 21 

Vessels hitched to a Fence-Post 24 

Women Towing a Pakschuyt 25 

Dame Brinker at her Spinning-Wheel 27 

Hans and Gretel gathering Peat 29 



List of Illustrations 


xii 

PAGE 

Running on Stilts . , . . . 30 

A Burgomaster . . . ^ 3^ 

A VoLENDAM Market-Woman 33 

‘‘Have you heard of it ? ” 34 

“ We cannot take this Money,” panted Hans ... 39 

The Market-Place, Amsterdam - 45 

“ O Mother, Mother ! how pretty you are ! ”... 47 

Hans and Gretel hear the Story of St. Nicholas . * 57 

By the Town of Broek 61 

Hans and Doctor Boekman .......... 64 

Jacob and Ben : “a Streak of Lean and a Streak of Fat” 68 

Ready for a Tumble 70 

Santa Claus • ♦ 73 

St Nicholas in Full Array stood before Them ... 78 

Shoes on the Table on St. Nicholas Eve . . . . . 80 

Peter calling the Roll - . . . . 85 

Long Arm-like Cranes, Hoisting and Lowering Goods . 86 

A Bridge in Old Amsterdam ......... 87 

Spionnen 88 

The Dogs take a Rest 89 

Greasing Sled-Runners with an Oiled Rag ..... 90 

Where was Jacob 96 

On the Frozen Zuyder Zee 97 

A Guard 98 

The Tulips in Bloom 99 

A Summer-House in Holland 103 

“May we enter and warm ourselves, Jufvrouw?” . . 109 

“ It ’ s Gone ! ” ..114 

“I THANK YOU, HaNS BrINKER ! ” I 20 

The Aanspreeker 133 

“There is a White Cushion” . 134 

In the Cathedral 137 

A Leak in the Dike! “Will no one come.?” . . .152 


List of Illustrations 


xiii 

PAGE 

On the Canal o . 157 

Ben’s Mishap . 160 

An Ice-Boat 163 

‘‘Will your Worships have Beds?” 175 

At the Red Lion Inn 0.0 179 

A Warming-Pan 183 

Still the Thing moves, slowly, slowly . . . . . .186 

At this Moment the Chrysalis sat erect . » . . . 189 

“There’s your Man, mine Host” » . . . , . . 191 

^Van der Were » „ 200 

Carrier Pigeons 203 

“Did I frighten you all?” * 207 

The Stadhuis at Leyden 208 

A Triptych 209 

The University of Leyden 210 

Rembrandt 21 1 

In the Bosch 214. 

William of Orange and Queen Mary 220 

Quentin Matsys’s Well at Antwerp 223 

Peter the Great 227 

The Black Cavalry ............ 229 

Storks’ Nests on the Roofs 238 

A Gaper 239 

A Fish-Dealer in his Dog-Cart 240 

Foot-Stoves in Church ........... 243 

Contribution Bags 245 

Peter bidding his Sister Good-by 247 

A Gust of Wind 252 

Playing Skittles ....253 

Gretel Tending Geese 257 

The Meester confers with his Assistant ..... 263 

“The Question is Everything to us, Mynheer” . . 266 

“ It is right. Mynheer. I consent ” 269 


XIV 


List of Illustrations 


PAGE 

Hilda and Gretel at the Cottage 276 

“ Can you see Anything ? ” . . 279 

Raff Brinker’s Awakening . . . 281 

‘‘ Meat, Jelly, Wine and Bread, a whole Basketful ” . 294 

“Do YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS, FaTHER ? ” . c . . . 299 

The Hidden Money was not there ! . . . o . . 307 

Visitors Within . „ . ... 314 

“Wait a Moment, if you please. Young Man” . . 317 

“Huzza, Girls, I’ve found Work!” ...... 321 

“Bury this” 325 

The Watch 329 

“I’m Flying from my Country” 334 

Raff Brinker pays his Vrouw a Compliment .... 339 

Hans and the Meester 344 

“When I can serve you. Mynheer, I am ready” . . 347 

Holland Peasant-Folk ■> 35 ^ 

Every Man had his Pipe 353 

The French Traveller ........... 356 

“Take this Strap — Quick!” 364 

“Peter has Won !” 367 

The Investigating Committee 381 

“Would you like to become a Physician?” . . . . 387 

Dr. Brinker with his Boys and Girls 39 ^ 



HANS BRINKER 

OR 


THE SILVER SKATES 


¥ 




HANS BRINKER 
OR, THE SILVER SKATES 
I 

HANS AND GRETEL 

O N a bright December morning long ago, two poorly clad 
children were kneeling upon the bank of a frozen 
canal in Holland. 

The sun had not yet appeared ; but the gray sky was 
parted near the horizon, and its edges shone crimson with the 
coming day. Most of the good Hollanders were enjoying a 
placid morning nap : even Mynheer von Stoppelnoze, that 
worthy old Dutchman, was still slumbering ‘‘ in beautiful 
repose.” 

Now and then some peasant-woman, poising a well-filled 
basket upon her head, came skimming over the glassy surface 


2 


Hans Brinker 


of the canal ; or a lusty boy, skating to his day’s work in the 
town, cast a good-natured grimace toward the shivering pair 
as he flew along. 

Meanwhile, with many a vigorous puff and pull, the brother 
and sister, for such they were, seemed to be fastening some- 
thing upon their feet, — not skates, certainly, but clumsy 
pieces of wood narrowed and smoothed at their lower edge, 
and pierced with holes, through which were threaded strings 
of raw-hide. 

These queer-looking affairs had been made by the boy Hans. 
His mother was a poor peasant-woman, too poor to even think 
of such a thing as buying skates for her little ones. Rough as 
these were, they had afforded the children many a happy hour 
upon the ice ; and now, as with cold, red fingers, our young 
Hollanders tugged at the strings, their solemn faces bending 
closely over their knees, no vision of impossible iron runners 
came to dull the satisfaction glowing within. 

In a moment the boy arose, and with a pompous swing of 
the arms, and a careless ‘‘ Come on, Gretel ! ” glided easily 
across the canal. 

“ Ah, Hans ! ” called his sister, plaintively, “ this foot is not 
well yet. The strings hurt me on last market-day ; and now 
I cannot bear them tied in the same place.” 

‘‘ Tie them higher up, then,” answered Hans, as, without 
looking at her, he performed a wonderful cat’s-cradle step on 
the ice. 

“ How can I The string is too short.” 

Giving vent to a good-natured Dutch whistle, the English 
of which was, that girls were troublesome creatures, he steered 
towards her. 

“You are foolish to wear such shoes, Gretel, when you 


or. The Silver Skates 3 

have a stout leather pair. Your klo?npen ^ would be better than 
these.” 

“Why, Hans! Do you forget? The father threw my 
beautiful new shoes in the lire. Before I knew what he had 



HANS AND GRETEL. 


done, they were all curled up in the midst of the burning peat. 
I can skate with these, but not with my wooden ones. Be 
careful now — ” 


1 Wooden shoes, 


4 


H ans Brinker 


Hans had taken a string from his pocket. Humming a 
tune as he knelt beside her, he proceeded to fasten Gretel’s 
skate with all the force of his strong young arm. 

“ Oh, oh ! ” she cried in real pain. 

With an impatient jerk, Hans unwound the string. He 
would have cast it upon the ground in true big-brother style, had 
he not just then spied a tear trickling down his sister’s cheek. 

‘‘I’ll fix it, never fear,” he said with sudden tenderness; 
“ but we must be quick. The mother will need us soon.” 

Then he glanced inquiringly about him, first at the ground, 
next at some bare willow-branches above his head, and finallv at 
the skv, now gorgeous with streaks of blue, crimson and gold. 

Finding nothing in any of these localities to meet his need, 
his eye suddenly brightened, as, with the air of a fellow who 
knew what he was about, he took off his cap, and, removing 
the tattered lining, adjusted it in a smooth pad over the top of 
Gretel’s aching foot. 

“ Now,” he cried triumphantly, at the same time arranging 
the strings as briskly as his benumbed fingers would allow, 
“ can you bear some pulling ? ” 

Gretel drew up her lips as if to say, “ Hurt away,” but made 
no further response. 

In another moment they were laughing together, as, hand 
in hand, they flew along the canal, never thinking whether the 
ice would bear or not ; for in Holland ice is generally an all- 
winter affair. It settles itself upon the water in a determined 
kind of way ; and, so far from growing thin and uncertain 
every time the sun is a little severe upon it, it gathers its 
forces day by day, and flashes defiance to every beam. 

Presently squeak, squeak ! sounded something beneath Hans’ 
feet. Next his strokes grew shorter, ending ofttimes with 


or, The Silver Skates 


5 



a jerk, and, finally, he lay sprawling upon the ice, kicking 


against the air with many a 
‘‘ Ha, ha ! ” laughed Gretel, 
a tender heart was beating 


fantastic flourish. 

, “ that was a fine tumble.” But 
under her coarse blue jacket ; 
and, even as she laughed, 
she came, with a graceful 
sweep, close to her pros- 
trate brother. 

‘‘Are you hurt, Hans? 
Oh, you are laughing \ 
Catch me now ! ” And 
she darted away, shivering 


A PAIR OF SKATERS. 


no longer, but with cheeks all aglow and eyes sparkling with 
fun. 

Hans sprang to his feet and started in brisk pursuit ; but 
it was no easy thing to catch Gretel. Before she had trav- 
elled very far, her skates, too, began to squeak. 

Believing that discretion was the better part of valor, she 
turned suddenly and skated into her pursuer’s arms. 


6 


Hans Brinker 


“ Ha, ha ! I ’ve caught you ! ” cried Hans. 

“ Ha, ha ! I caught you^’’ she retorted, struggling to free 
herself. 

A boy and a girl whom they knew came skating toward them. 

Just then a voice was heard calling, Hans ! Gretel ! ” 

“ It ’s the mother,” said Hans, looking solemn in an instant. 

By this time the canal was gilded with sunlight. The pure 
morning air was very delightful, and skaters were gradually 
increasing in numbers. It was hard to obey the summons. 
But Gretel and Hans were good children. Without a thought 
of yielding to the temptation to linger, they pulled off their 
skates, leaving half the knots still tied. Hans, with his great 
square shoulders, and bushy yellow hair, towered high above 
his blue-eyed little sister, as they trudged homeward. He was 
fifteen years old, and Gretel was only twelve. He was a 
solid, hearty-looking boy, with honest eyes, and a brow that 
seemed to bear a sign, ‘‘goodness within,” just as the little 
Dutch ‘zomerhuis ^ wears a motto over its portal. Gretel was 
lithe and quick. Her eyes had a dancing light in them ; and, 
while you looked at her cheek, the color paled and deepened 
just as it does upon a bed of pink-and-white blossoms when 
the wind is blowing. 

As soon as the children turned from the canal, they were 
near their parents’ cottage. Their mother’s tall form, arrayed 
in jacket and petticoat and close-fitting cap, stood, like a pic- 
ture, in the crooked frame of the doorway. Had the cottage 
been a mile away, it would still have seemed near. In that 
flat country, every object stands out plainly in the distance : 
the chickens show as distinctly as the windmills. Indeed, 
were it not for the dikes, and the high banks of the canals, 
1 Summer-house. 



THEIR mother’s TALL FORM STOOD IN THE DOORWAY 


\ 



or, The Silver Skates 


9 


one could stand almost anywhere in Middle Holland without 
seeing a mound or a ridge between the eye and the “jumping- 
ofF place.” 

None had better cause to know the nature of these same 
dikes than Dame Brinker and the panting youngsters now 
running at her call. But, before stating why^ let me ask you 
to take a rocking-chair trip with me to that far country, where 
you may see, perhaps for the first time, some curious things 
that Hans and Gretel saw every day. 


lO 


Hans Brinker 


II 


HOLLAND 



H olland is one of the queerest countries under the 
sun. It should be called Odd-land or Contrary-land ; 
for in nearly everything it is different from other parts of the 

world. In the first place, 
a large portion of the 
country is lower than the 
level of the sea. Great 
dikes, or bulwarks, have 
been erected, at a heavy 
cost of money and labor, 
to keep the ocean where 
it belongs. On certain 
parts of the coast, it some- 
times leans with all its 
weight against the land ; 
and it is as much as the 
poor country can do to 
stand the pressure. Some- 
times the dikes give way, 
or spring a leak, and the 
most disastrous results en- 
sue. They are high and 
wide y and the tops of 


LOWER THAN THE LEVEL OF THE SEA. 


or. The Silver Skates 


1 1 



A HOME ON A CANAL-BOAT. 


some of them are covered with buildings and trees. They 
have even fine public roads upon them, from which horses may 
look down upon wayside cottages. Often the keels of float- 
ing ships are higher than the roofs of the dwellings. The 
stork clattering to her young on the house-peak may feel that 
her nest is lifted far out of danger ; but the croaking frog in 
neighboring bulrushes is nearer the stars than she. Water- 
bugs dart backward and forward above the heads of the 
chimney-swallows ; and willow-trees seem drooping with shame, 
because they cannot reach as high as the reeds near by. 

Ditches, canals, ponds, rivers and lakes are everywhere to 
be seen. High, but not dry, they shine in the sunlight, catch- 
ing nearly all the bustle and the business, quite scorning the 
tame fields stretching damply beside them. One is tempted to 
ask, ‘‘ Which is Holland, — the shores, or the water ? ’’ The 
very verdure that should be confined to the land has made a 
mistake, and settled upon the fish-ponds. In fact, the entire 
country is a kind of saturated sponge, or, as the English poet 
Butler called it, — 

“ A land that rides at anchor, and is moored j 
In which they do not live, but go aboard.” 


12 


H ans Brinker 



Persons are born, live, and die, and even have their gardens, 
on canal-boats. Farmhouses, with roofs like great slouched 
hats pulled over their eyes, stand on wooden legs with a tucked- 
up sort of air, as if to say, We intend to keep dry if we can.” 
Even the horses wear a wide stool on each hoof to lift them 

out of the mire. 
In short, the land- 
scape everywhere 
suggests a paradise 
for ducks. It is 
a glorious country 
in summer for 
barefooted girls 
and boys. Such 
wad i n gs ! such 
mimic s h i p- 
sailing ! such row- 
ing, fishing and 
swimming! Only 
think of a chain 
of puddles, where 
one can launch 
chip boats all day 
long, and never 
make a return trip ! But enough. A full recital would set 
all young America rushing in a body toward the Zuyder-Zee. 

Dutch cities seem at first sight to be a bewildering jungle 
of houses, bridges, churches and ships, sprouting into masts, 
steeples and trees. In some cities, vessels are hitched, like 
horses, to their owners’ door-posts, and receive their freight 
from the upper windows. Mothers scream to Lodewyk and 


EVEN THE HORSES WEAR A WIDE STOOL ON 
EACH HOOF. 


or, The Silver Skates 


13 


Kassy not to swing on the garden-gate, for fear they may be 
drowned. Water-roads are more frequent there than common 
roads and railways. W^ater-fences, in the form of lazy green 
ditches, enclose pleasure-ground, polder and garden. 

Sometimes fine green hedges are seen ; but wooden fences, 
such as we have 
in America, are 
rarely met with in 
Holland. As for 
stone fences, a 
Dutchman would 
lift his hands with 
astonishment at 
the very idea. 

There is no stone 
there, excepting 
those great masses 
of rock that have been brought from other lands to strengthen 
and protect the coast. All the small stones or pebbles, if 
there ever were any, seem to be imprisoned in pavements, 
or quite melted away. Boys with strong, quick arms may 
grow from pinafores to full beards, without ever finding one 
to start the water-rings, or set the rabbits flying. The water- 
roads are nothing less than canals intersecting the country in 
every direction. These are of all sizes, from the great North 
Holland Ship Canal, which is the wonder of the world, to those 
which a boy can leap. Water-omnibuses, called trekschuiten^ 
constantly ply up and down these roads for the conveyance 
of passengers ; and water-drays, called pakschuyten^ are used 

1 Canal-boats. Some of the first-named are over thirty feet long. They 
look like greenhouses lodged on barges, and are drawn by horses walking 



CHILDREN AT PLAY IN HOLLAND. 


Hans Brinker 


14 

for carrying fuel and merchandise. Instead of green country 
lanes, green canals stretch from field to barn, and from barn 
to garden ; and the farms, or polders, as they are termed, are 
merely great lakes pumped dry. Some of the busiest streets 
are water ; while many of the country roads are paved with 
brick. The city boats, with their rounded sterns, gilded prows 
and gayly painted sides, are unlike any others under the sun ; 

and a Dutch wagon, with its 
funny little crooked pole, is a 
perfect mystery of mysteries. 

One thing is clear,” cries 
Master Brightside, “ the inhabit- 
ants need never be thirsty.” 
But, no. Odd-land is true to 
itself still. Notwithstanding the 
sea pushing to get in, and the 
lakes struggling to get out, and 
the overflowing; canals, rivers and 

THE POLE OF A DUTCH WAGON. _ ^ ° . 

ditches, in many districts there is 
no water fit to swallow : our poor Hollanders must go dry, or 
drink wine and beer, or send far into the inland, to Utrecht 
and other favored localities, for that precious fluid older than 
Adam, yet young as the morning dew. Sometimes, indeed, 
the inhabitants can swallow a shower, when they are provided 

along the bank of the canal. The trekschiiiten are divided into two com- 
partments, first and second class 5 and, when not too crowded, the 
passengers make themselves quite at home in them : the men smoke, the 
women knit or sew, while children play upon the small outer deck. 
Many of the canal-boats have white, yellow or chocolate-colored sails. 
This last color is caused by a preparation of tan, which is put on to 
preserve them. 



or, The Silver Skates 


15 


with any means of catching it ; but generally they are like the 
albatross-haunted sailors in Coleridge’s famous poem of ‘‘ The 
Ancient Mariner ” : they see 

“ Water, water, everywhere. 

Nor any drop to drink ! ” 



Hans Brinker 


i6 

Great flapping windmills all over the country make it look as 
if flocks of huge sea-birds were just settling upon it. Every- 
where one sees the funniest trees, bobbed into fantastical 
shapes, with their trunks painted a dazzling white, yellow or 
red. Horses are often yoked three abreast. Men, women 
and children go clattering about in wooden shoes with loose 
heels ; peasant-girls who cannot get beaux for love, hire them 
for money, to escort them to the kermis;'^ and husbands and 
wives lovingly harness themselves side by side on the bank of 
the canal, and drag their pakschuyts to market. 

Another peculiar feature of Holland is the “ dune,” or sand- 
hill. These are numerous along certain portions of the coast. 
Before they were sown with coarse reed-grass and other plants, 
to hold them down, they used to send great storms of sand 
over the inland. So, to add to the oddities, farmers sometimes 
dig down under the surface to find their soil ; and on windy 
days dry showers (of sand) often fall upon fields that have 
grown wet under a week of sunshine ! 

In short, almost the only familiar thing we Yankees can 
meet with in Holland is a harvest-song, which is quite popular 
there, though no linguist could translate it. Even then, we 
must shut our eyes, and listen only to the tune, which I leave 
you to gupss. 

“ Yanker didee dudel down 
Didee dudel lawnter j 
Yankee viver, voover, vown, 

Botermelk und Tawnter ! ” 

On the other hand, many of the oddities of Holland serve 
only to prove the thrift and perseverance of the people. There 
is not a richer or more carefully tilled garden-spot in the whole 

1 Fair. 


or. The Silver Skates 


17 


world than this leaky, springy, little country. There is not a 
braver, more heroic race than its quiet, passive-looking in- 
habitants. Few nations have equalled it in important discoveries 
and inventions ; none has excelled it in commerce, navigation. 



ON THE DUNES. 


Jearning and science, or set as noble examples in the promo- 
tion of education and public charities ; and none, in proportion 
to its extent, has expended more money and labor upon public 
works. 

Holland has its shining annals of noble and illustrious men 
and women, its grand historic records ot patience, resistance 
and victory, its religious freedom, its enlightened enterprise, its 
art, its music and its literature. It has truly been called “ the 
battle-field of Europe : ” as truly may we consider it the 
asylum of the worid ; for the oppressed of every nation have 


i8 


Hans Brinker 


there found shelter and encouragement. If we Americans 
— many of us surely of Holland stock — can laugh at the 
Dutch, and call them human beavers, and hint that their 
country may float off any day at high tide, we can also know 
that they have proved themselves heroes, and that their country 
will not float off while there is a Dutchman left to grapple it. 

There are said to be at least ninety-nine hundred large wind- 
mills in Holland, with sails ranging from eighty to one hundred 
and twenty feet long. They are employed in sawing timber, 
beating hemp, grinding, and many other kinds of work; but 
their principal use is for pumping water from the lowlands into 
the canals, and for guarding against the inland freshets that so 
often deluge the country. Their yearly cost is said to be 
nearly ten millions of dollars. The large ones are of great 
power. Their huge, circular tower, rising sometimes from the 
midst of factory buildings, is surmounted with a smaller one, 
tapering into a caplike roof. This upper tower is encircled at 
its base with a balcony, high above which juts the axis, turned 
by its four prodigious ladder-backed sails. 

Many of the windmills are primitive affairs, seeming sadly 
in need of Yankee “improvements;” but some of the new 
ones are admirable. They are so constructed that, by some 
ingenious contrivance, they present their fans, or wings, to the 
wind in precisely the right direction to work with the requisite 
power. In other words, the miller may take a nap, and feel 
quite sure that his mill will study the wind, and make the 
most of it, until he wakens. Should there be but a slight cur- 
rent of air, every sail will spread itself to catch the faintest 
breath ; but, if a heavy “ blow ” should come, they will shrink 
at its touch, like great mimosa-leaves, and only give it half a 
chance to move them. 



WINDMILLS ALONG THE CANAl 





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I. 


or. The Silver Skates 


21 



One of the old prisons of Amsterdam, called the “ Rasp- 
house, because the thieves and vagrants who were confined 
there were employed 
in rasping logwood, 
had a cell for the 
punishment of lazy 
prisoners. In one 
corner of this cell was 
a pump, and in anoth- 
er an opening, through 
which a steady stream 
of water was admit- 
ted. The prisoner 
could take his choice, 

— either to stand still 
and be drowned ; or 
to work for dear life 
at the pump, and keep 
the rising flood down 
until relieved. Now, 
it seems to me that, 
throughout Holland, 

Nature has introduced 
this little diversion on 
a grand scale. The 
Dutch always have 
been forced to pump ^ prisoner forced to pump or 

for their very exist- 
ence, and probably must continue to do so to the end of time. 

Every year millions of dollars are spent in repairing dikes 
and regulating water-levels. If these important duties were 


22 


Hans Brinker 


neglected, the country would be uninhabitable. Already 
dreadful consequences, as I have said, have followed the 
bursting of these dikes. Hundreds of villages and towns 
have, from time to time, been buried beneath the rush of 
waters ; and nearly a million of persons have been destroyed. 
One of the most fearful inundations ever known occurred in 
the autumn of the year 1570. Twenty-eight terrible floods 
had before that time overwhelmed portions of Holland ; but 
this was the most terrible of all. The unhappy country had 
long been suffering under Spanish tyranny ; now, it seemed, 
came the crowning point of its troubles. When we read 
Motley’s “ Rise of the Dutch Republic,” we learn to revere the 
brave people who have endured, suffered and dared so much. 

Mr. Motley, in his thrilling account of the great inundation, 
tells us how a long-continued and violent gale had been 
sweeping the Atlantic waters into the North Sea, piling them 
against the coasts of the Dutch provinces ; how the dikes, 
tasked beyond their strength, burst in all directions ; how even 
the hand-boss, a bulwark formed of oaken piles, braced with 
iron, moored with heavy anchors, and secured by gravel and 
granite, was snapped to pieces like packthread ; how fishing- 
boats and bulky vessels, floating up into the country, became 
entangled among the trees, or beat in the roofs and walls of 
dwellings; and how, at last, all Friesland was converted into 
an angry sea. “ Multitudes of men, women, children, of 
horses, oxen, sheep, and every domestic animal, were struggling 
Hn the waves in every direction. Every boat and every article 
which could serve as a boat was eagerly seized upon. Every 
house was inundated : even the graveyards gave up their dead. 
The living infant in his cradle and the long-buried corpse in 
his coffin floated side by side. The ancient flood seemed 


or. The Silver Skates 


23 


about to be renewed. Everywhere — upon the tops of trees, 
upon the steeples of churches — human beings were clustered, 
praying to God for mercy, and to their fellow-men for assistance. 
As the storm at last was subsiding, boats began to ply in 
every direction, saving those who were struggling in the water, 
picking fugitives from roofs and tree-tops, and collecting the 
bodies of those already drowned. No less than one hundred 
thousand human beings had perished in a few hours. Thou- 
sands upon thousands of dumb creatures lay dead upon the 
waters ; and the damage to property was beyond calculation. 

Robles, the Spanish governor, was foremost in noble efforts 
to save life, and lessen the horrors of the catastrophe. He 
had formerly been hated by the Dutch, because of his Spanish 
or Portuguese blood ; but, by his goodness and activity in their 
hour of disaster, he won all hearts to gratitude. He soon 
introduced an improved method of constructing the dikes, and 
passed a law that they should in future be kept up by the 
owners of the soil. There were fewer heavy floods from this 
time ; though, within less than three hundred years, six fearful 
inundations swept over the land. 

In the spring there is always great danger of inland freshets, 
especially in times of thaw, because the rivers, choked with 
blocks of ice, overflow before they can discharge their rapidly 
rising waters into the ocean. Add to this the sea chafing and 
pressing against the dikes and it is no wonder that Holland 
is often in a state of alarm. The greatest care is taken to 
prevent accidents. Engineers and workmen are stationed alk 
along in threatened places ; and a close watch is kept up 
night and day. When a general signal of danger is given, the 
inhabitants all rush to the rescue, eager to combine against 
their common foe. As, everywhere else, straw is supposed to 


24 


Hans Brinker 


be of all things the most helpless in the water, of course in 
Holland it must be rendered the mainstay against a rushing 
tide. Huge straw mats are pressed against the embankments, 
fortified with clay and heavy stone ; and, once adjusted, the 
ocean dashes against them in vain. 

Raff Brinker, the father of Gretel and Hans, had for 
years been employed upon the dikes. It was at the time of 
a threatened inundation, when in the midst of a terrible storm, 
in darkness and sleet, the men were laboring at a weak spot 
near the Veermyk sluice, that he fell from the scaffolding, and 
was taken home insensible. From that hour he never worked 
again. Though he lived on, mind and memory were gone. 

Gretel could not remember him otherwise than as the strange, 
silent man whose eyes followed her vacantly whichever way 
she turned ; but Hans had recollections of a hearty, cheerful- 
voiced father, who was never tired of bearing him 

upon his shoulder, and ^ whose careless song still 


seemed echoing near 
night and listened. 



when he lay awake at 



VESSELS HITCHED TO A FENCE-POST. 



Ill 

THE SILVER SKATES 

D ame BRINKER earned a scanty support for her fam- 
ily by raising vegetables, spinning and knitting. Once 
she had worked on board the barges plying up and down the 
canal, and had occasionally been harnessed with other women 
to the towing-rope of a pakschuyt plying between Broek and 
Amsterdam. But when Hans had grown strong and large, 
he had insisted upon doing all such drudgery in her place. 
Besides, her husband had become so very helpless of late that 
he required her constant care. Although he had not as much 
intelligence as a little child, he was yet strong of arm and 



26 


Hans Brinker 


very hearty ; and Dame Brinker had sometimes great trouble 
iii controlling him. When Hans was in the cottage, or some 
kind-hearted passer-by came to her assistance on hearing a 
noise within, the poor vrouw could get on very well ; but, 
when she was alone, it was a different matter. 

“ Ah, children ! he was so good and steady,” she would 
sometimes say, and as wise as a lawyer. Even the burgo- 
master would stop to ask him a question ; and now, alack ! he 
doesn’t know his wife and little ones. You remember the 
father, Hans, when he was himself, — a great brave man, — 
don’t you ” 

“ Yes, indeed, mother ! He knew everything, and could do 
anything under the sun j and how he would sing ! Why, you 
used to laugh, and say it was enough to set the windmills 
dancing.” 

“ So I did. Bless me ! how the boy remembers ! Gretel, 
child, take that knitting-needle from your father, quick, — 
he ’ll get it in his eyes, maybe, — and put the shoe on him. 
His poor feet are like ice half the time; but I can’t keep ’em 
covered, all I can do.” And then, half wailing, half hum- 
ming, Dame Brinker would sit down and fill the low cottage 
with the whir of her spinning-wheel. 

Nearly all the outdoor work, as well as the household 
labor, was performed by Hans and Gretel. At certain sea- 
sons of the year, the children went out day after day to 
gather peat, which they would stow away in square, brick- 
like pieces, for fuel. At other times, when home-work per- 
mitted, Hans rode the towing-horses on the canals, earning a 
few stivers ^ a day ; and Gretel tended geese for the neighbor- 
ing farmers. 

^ A stiver is worth about two cents of our money. 



DAME BRINKER AT HER SPINNING-WHEEL 




or, The Silver Skates 


29 


Hans was clever at carving in wood ; and both he and 
Gretel were good gardeners. Gretel could sing and sew and 
run on great high, home-made stilts better than any girl for 
miles around. She could learn a ballad in five minutes, and 



HANS AND GRETEL GATHERING PEAT. 

find, in its season, any weed or flower you could name. But 
she dreaded books ; and often the very sight of the figuring- 
board in the old schoolhouse would set her eyes swimming. 


30 


H ans Brinker 


Hans, on the contrary, was slow and steady. The harder the 
task, whether in study or daily labor, the better he liked it. 
Boys who sneered at him out of school, on account of his 
patched clothes and scant leather breeches, were forced to 



RUNNING ON STILTS. 


yield him the post of honor in nearly every class. It was not 
long before he was the only youngster in the school who had 
not stood at least once in the corner of horrors, where hung a 
dreaded whip, and over it this motto : — 


or, The Silver Skates 31 

‘‘Leer, leerl jou luigaart, of dit endje touw zal je leeren!” ^ 

It was only in winter that Gretel and Hans could be spared 
to attend school ; and for the past month they had been kept 
at home because their mother needed their services. Raff 
Brinker required constant attention ; and there was black-bread 
to be made, and the house to be kept clean, and stockings and 
other things to be knitted and sold in the market-place. 

While they were busily assisting their mother on this cold 
December morning, a merry troop of girls and boys came 
skimming down the canal. There were fine skaters among 
them ; and, as the bright medley of costumes flitted by, it 
looked from a distance as though the ice had suddenly 
thawed, and some gay tulip-bed were floating along on the 
current. 

There was the rich burgomaster’s daughter, Hilda van 
Gleck, with her costly furs and loose-fitting velvet sack j and 
near by a pretty peasant-girl, Annie Bouman, jauntily attired 
in a coarse scarlet jacket, and a blue skirt just short enough to 
display the gray homespun hose to advantage. Then there 
was the proud Rychie Korbes, whose father, Mynheer van 
Korbes, was one of the leading men of Amsterdam ; and, 
flocking closely around her, Carl Schummel, Peter and Lud- 
wig van Holp, Jacob Foot, and a very small boy, rejoicing 
in the tremendous name of Voostenwalbert Schimmelpen- 
ninck. There were nearly twenty other boys and girls in 
the party ; and one and all seemed full of excitement and 
frolic. 

Up and down the canal, within the space of a half-mile, 

1 “ Learn, learn, you idler! or this rope’s end shall teach you.” 

2 Ludwig, Gretel and Carl were named after Gorman friends. The 
Dutch form would be Lode^vjyk^ Grietje and Karel. 


32 


Hans Brinker 


they skated, exerted their racing powers to the utmost. Often 
the swiftest among them was seen to dodge from under the 
very nose of some pompous law-giver or doctor, who, with 
folded arms, was skating leisurely toward the town ; or a chain 
of girls would suddenly break at the approach of a fat old 
burgomaster, who, with gold-headed 
cane poised in air, was puffing his 
way to Amsterdam. Equipped in 
skates wonderful to behold, — from 
their superb strappings, and daz- 
zling runners curving toward the 
instep and topped with gilt balls, — 
he would open his fat eyes a little 
if one of the maidens chanced to 
drop him a courtesy, but would not 
dare to bow in return, for fear of 
losing his balance. 

Not only pleasure-seekers and 
stately men of note were upon the 
canal. There were work-people, 
with weary eyes, hastening to their 
shops and factories ; market-women 
with loads upon their heads ; ped- 
dlers bending with their packs ; 
bargemen, with shaggy hair and bleared faces, jostling roughly 
on their way ; kind-eyed clergymen speeding perhaps to the 
bedsides of the dying ; and, after a while, groups of children, 
with satchels slung over their shoulders, whizzing past toward 
the distant school. One and all wore skates, excepting, in- 
deed, a muffied-up farmer, whose queer cart bumped along on 
the margin of the canal. 



A BURGOMASTER. 


or. The Silver Skates 


33 


Before long our merry boys and girls were almost lost in 
the confusion of bright colors, the ceaseless motion and the 
gleaming of skates flashing back the sunlight. We might 
have known no more of them, had not the whole party 
suddenly come to a standstill, and, grouping themselves 
out of the way of the passers-by, 
all talked at once to a pretty little 
maiden, whom they had drawn 
from the tide of people flowing 
toward the town. 

“ O Katrinka ! ” they cried in a 
breath, “ have you heard of it ? 

The race — we want you to join ! ” 

‘‘ What race ? ” asked Katrinka, 
laughing. Don’t all talk at once, 
please : I can’t understand.” 

Every one panted and looked at 
Rychie Korbes, who was their ac- 
knowledged spokeswoman. 

‘‘Why,” said Rychie, “we are 
to have a grand skating-match on 
the 20th, on Mevrouw ^ vVn deck’s 
birthday. It’s all Hilda’s work. 

They are going to give a splendid a volendam market-woman. 
prize to the best skater.” 

“ Yes,” chimed in a half a dozen voices, — “ a beautiful pair 
of silver skates — perfectly magnificent ! with oh, such straps 
and silver bells and buckles ! ” 

“ Who said they had bells ? ” put in the small voice of the 
boy with the big name. 

^ Mrs., or madame (pronounced 
3 



34 


Hans Brinker 


‘‘/say so, Master Voost,” replied Rychie. 

“ So they have ” — “ No, I ’m sure they have n’t ” — “ Oh I 
how can you say so ? ” — “ It ’s an arrow ” — “ And Mynheer 
van Korbes told my mother they had bells” — came from 



‘‘HAVE YOU HEARD OF IT?” 

sundry of the excited group; but Mynheer Voostenwalbert 
Schimmelpenninck essayed to settle the matter with a de- 
cisive — 


or, The Silver Skates 


35 

‘‘ Well, you don’t any of you know a single thing about it : 
they have n’t a sign of a bell on them ; they — ” 

‘‘ Oh, oh ! ” and the chorus of conflicting opinion broke 
forth again. 

“ The girls’ pair are to have bells,” interposed Hilda, quietly j 
“ but there is to be another pair for the boys, with an arrow 
engraved upon the sides.” 

There ! I told you so ! ” cried nearly all the youngsters in 
a breath. 

Katrinka looked at them with bewildered eyes. 

“ Who is to try ? ” she asked. 

“ All of us,” answered Rychie. “ It will be such fun ! 
And you must, too, Katrinka. But it ’s school-time now : we 
will talk it all over at noon. Oh, you will join, of course.” 

Katrinka, without replying, made a graceful pirouette, and 
— laughing out a coquettish, “ Don’t you hear the last bell ? 
Catch me ! ” — darted off toward the schoolhouse, standing 
half a mile away on the canal. 

All started pell-mell at this challenge ; but they tried in 
vain to catch the bright-eyed, laughing creature, who, with 
golden hair streaming in the sunlight, cast back many a spark- 
ling glance of triumph as she floated onward. 

Beautiful Katrinka ! Flushed with youth and health, all life 
and mirth and emotion, what wonder thine image, ever float- 
ing in advance, sped through one boy’s dreams that night ! 
What wonder that it seemed his darkest hour, when, years 
afterward, thy presence floated away from him forever ! 


36 


Hans Brinker 


IV 


HANS AND GRETEL FIND A FRIEND 
T noon our young friends poured forth from the school- 



house, intent upon having an hour’s practising upon 
the canal. 

They had skated but a few moments wTen Carl Schummel 
said mockingly to Hilda, — 

“ There ’s a pretty pair just coming upon the ice ! The 
little rag-pickers ! Their skates must have been a present from 
the king direct.” 

“ They are patient creatures,” said Hilda, gently. “ It must 
have been hard to learn to skate upon such queer affairs. 
They are very poor peasants, you see. The boy has probably 
made the skates himself.” 

Carl was somewhat abashed. 

‘‘ Patient they may be ; but, as for skating, they start off 
pretty well, only to finish with a jerk. They could move well 
to your new staccato piece, I think.” 

Hilda laughed pleasantlv, and left him. After joining a 
small detachment of the racers, and sailing past every one of 
them, she halted beside Gretel, who, with eager eyes, had been 
watching the sport. 

What is your name, little girl ? ” 

‘‘ Gretel, my lady,” answered the child, somewhat awed by 
Hilda’s rank, though they were nearly of the same age; ‘‘and 
my brother is called Hans.” 


or, The Silver Skates 


37 


“ Hans is a stout fellow,” said Hilda, cheerily, “and seems 
to have a warm stove somewhere within him ; but you look 
cold. You should wear more clothing, little one.” 

Gretel, who had nothing else to wear, tried to laugh, as she 
. answered, — 

“ I am not so very little. I am past twelve years old.” 

“ Oh, I beg your pardon ! You see, I am nearly fourteen, 
and so large of my age that other girls seem small to me ; but 
that is nothing. Perhaps you will shoot up far above me yet ; 
not unless you dress more warmly, though : shivering girls 
never grow.” 

Hans flushed as he saw tears rising in Gretel’s eyes. 

“ My sister has not complained of the cold ; but this is 
bitter weather, they say ; ” and he looked sadly upon Gretel. 

“ It is nothing,” said Gretel. “ I am often warm, too warm, 
when I am skating. You are jufvromv^^ to think of it.” 

“ No, no ! ” answered Hilda, quite angry at herself. “ I am 
careless, cruel ; but I meant no harm. I wanted to ask you 
— I mean — if — ” And here Hilda, coming to the point of 
her errand, ^altered before the poorly clad but noble-looking 
children she wished to serve. 

“ What is it, young lady ? ” exclaimed Hans, eagerly. “ If 
there is any service I can do; any” — 

“ Oh, no, no ! ” laughed Hilda, shaking off her embarrass- 
ment. “ I only wished to speak to you about the grand race. 
Why do you not join it You both can skate well ; and the 
ranks are free. Any one may enter for the prize.” 

Gretel looked wistfully at Hans, who, tugging at his cap, 
answered respectfully, — 

1 Miss, young lady (pronounced in studied or polite address, 

it would be jug'Vro=ive {^vononnctA youngfronv). 


38 


Hans Brinker 


“ A\ jufvrouw^ even if we could enter, we could skate only 
a few strokes with the rest. Our skates are hard wood, you 
see ” (holding up the sole of his foot) ; “ but they soon become 
damp, and then they stick, and trip us.” 

Gretel’s eyes twinkled with fun as she thought of Hans’ mishap 
in the morning ; but she blushed as she faltered out timidly, — 

“ Oh, no ! we can’t join ; but may we be there, my lady, 
on the great day, to look on ? ” 

“ Certainly,” answered Hilda, looking kindly into the two 
earnest faces, and wishing from her heart that she had not 
spent so much of her monthly allowance for lace and finery. 
She had but eight hvartjes ^ left ; and they would buy but one 
pair of skates, at the furthest. 

Looking down with a sigh at the two pairs of feet so very 
different in size, she asked, — 

“ Which of you is the better skater ? ” 

Gretel,” replied Hans, promptly. 

“ Hans,” answered Gretel, in the same breath. 

Hilda smiled. 

“ I cannot buy you each a pair of skates, or even one good 
pair ; but here are eight hvartjes. Decide between you which 
stands the best chance of winning the race and buy the skates 
accordingly. I wish I had enough to buy better ones. Good- 
by ! ” And, with a nod and a smile, Hilda, after handing the 
money to the electrified Hans, glided swiftly away to rejoin 
her companions. 

Jufvrouw, jufvrouw van Gleck ! ” called Hans, in a loud 
tone, stumbling after her as well as he could ; for one of his 
skate-strings was untied. 

1 A knvartje is a small silver coin worth one-quarter of -x guilder, or ten 
cents in American currency. 



» 


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or. The Silver Skates 


41 


Hilda turned, and, with one hand raised to shield her eyes 
from the sun, seemed to him to be floating through the air, 
nearer and nearer. 

“We cannot take this money,’’ panted Hans, “though we 
know your goodness in giving it.” 

“ Why not, indeed ? ” asked Hilda, flushing. 

“ Because,” replied Hans, bowing like a clown, but looking 
with the eye of a prince at the queenly girl, “ we have not 
earned it.” 

Hilda was quick-witted. She had noticed a pretty wooden 
chain upon Gretel’s neck. 

“ Carve me a chain, Hans, like the one your sister wears.” 

“ That I will, lady, with all my heart. We have whitewood 
m the house, fine as ivory. You shall have one to-morrow ; ” 
and Hans hastily tried to return the money. 

“ No, no ! ” said Hilda, decidedly. “ That sum will be but a 
poor price for the chain ; ” and off she darted, outstripping the 
fleetest among the skaters. 

Hans sent a long, bewildered gaze after her. It was useless, 
he felt, to make any further resistance. 

“ It is right,” he muttered, half to himself, half to his faith- 
ful shadow, Gretel. “ I must work hard every minute, and sit 
up half the night, if the mother will let me burn a candle ; but 
the chain shall be finished. We may keep the money, 
Gretel.” ’ 

“What a good young lady!” cried Gretel, clapping her 
hands with delight. “ O Hans ! was it for nothing the stork 
settled on our roof last summer ? Do you remember how the 
mother said it would bring us luck, and how she cried when 
Janzoon Kolp shot him ? And she said it would bring him 
trouble. But the luck has come to us, at last. Now, Hans, 


42 


H ans Brinker 


if mother sends us to town to-morrow, you can buy the skates 
in the market-place.” 

Hans shook his head. “ The young lady would have given 
us the money to buy skates ; but, if 1 earn it, Gretel, it shall 
be spent for . wool. You must have a warm jacket.” 

‘‘ Oh ! ” cried Gretel, in real dismay. “ Not buy the skates. 
Why, I am not often cold. Mother says the blood runs up 
and down in poor children’s veins, humming, ^ I must keep 
’em warm ; I must keep ’em warm ! ’ 

“ O Hans ! ” she continued, with something like a sob, 
“don’t say you won’t buy the skates: it makes me feel just 
like crying. Besides, I want to be cold — I mean I ’m real, 
awful warm — so, now ! ” 

Hans looked up hurriedly. He had a true Dutch horror of 
tears, or emotion of any kind ; and, most of all, he dreaded to 
see his sister’s blue eyes overflowing. 

“ Now mind,” cried Gretel, seeing her advantage, “ I ’ll 
feel awful if you give up the skates. / don’t want them : I ’m 
not such a stingy as that. But I want to have them ; and 
then, when I get bigger, they ’ll do for me. Oh-h ! count the 
pieces, Hans. Did ever you see so many ” 

Hans turned the money thoughtfully in his palm. Never in 
all his life had he longed so intensely for a pair of skates ; for 
he had known of the race, and had, boylike, fairly ached for a 
chance to test his powers with the other children. He felt 
confident that, with a good pair of steel runners, he could 
readily distance most of the boys on the canal. Then, too, 
Gretel’s argument was so plausible. On the other hand, he 
knew that she, with her strong but lithe little frame, needed 
but a week’s practice on good runners to make her a better 
skater than Rychie Korbes, or even Katrinka b lack. As soon 


or, The Silver Skates 


43 


as this last thought flashed upon him, his resolve was made. 
If Gretel would not have the jacket, she should have the 
skates. 

“No, Gretel,” he answered at last, “I can wait. Some 
day I may have money enough saved to buy a fine pair. You 
shall have these.” 

GretePs eyes sparkled ; but, in another instant, she insisted 
rather faintly, — 

“ The young lady gave the money to you^ Hans. I ’d be 
real bad to take it.” 

Hans shook his head resolutely as he trudged on, causing his 
sister to half skip and half walk in her effort to keep beside 
him. By this time they had taken off their wooden “ rockers,” 
and were hastening home to tell their mother the good news. 

“ Oh, / know ! ” cried Gretel, in a sprightly tone. “ You 
can do this. You can get a pair a little too small for you, and 
too big for me ; and we can take turns, and use them. Won’t 
that be fine ? ” and Gretel clapped her hands again. 

Poor Hans ! This was a strong temptation ; but he pushed 
it away from him, brave-hearted fellow that he was. 

“Nonsense, Gretel! You could never get on with a big 
pair : you stumbled about with these like a blind chicken, 
before I curved off the ends. No : you must have a pair 
to fit exactly ; and you must practise every chance you can 
get until the 20th comes. My little Gretel shall win the 
silver skates.” 

Gretel could not help laughing with delight at the very 
idea. 

“ Hans, Gretel ! ” called out a familiar voice. 

“ Coming, mother.” And they hastened toward the cottage, 
Hans still shaking the pieces of silver in his hand. 


44 


Hans Brinker 


On the following day there was not a prouder nor a happier 
boy in all Holland than Hans Brinker, as he watched his 
sister, with many a dexterous sweep, flying in and out among 
the skaters who at sundown thronged the canal. A warm 
jacket had been given her by the kind-hearted Hilda; and 
the burst-out shoes had been cobbled into decency by Dame 
Brinker. As the little creature darted backward and forward, 
flushed with enjoyment, and quite unconscious of the many 
wondering glances bent upon her, she felt that the shining 
runners beneath her feet had suddenly turned earth into fairy- 
land, while ‘‘ Hans, dear, good Hans ! ” echoed itself over and 
over again in her grateful heart. 

“By den donder ! ” exclaimed Peter van Holp to Carl 
Schummel, “but that little one in the red jacket and patched 
petticoat skates well. Gunst ! she has toes on her heels, and 
eyes in the back of her head. See her ! It will be a joke if 
she gets in the race, and beats Katrinka Flack, after all.” 

“ Hjush ! not so loud ! ” returned Carl, rather sneeringly. 
“That little lady in rags is the special pet , of Hilda van 
Gleck. Those shining skates are her gift, if I make no 
mistake.” 

“ So, so ! ” exclaimed Peter, with a radiant smile ; for Hilda 
was his best friend. “ She has been at her good work there 
too ! ” And Mynheer van Holp, after cutting a double 8 on 
the ice, to say nothing of a huge P, then a jump, and an H, 
glided onward until he found himself beside Hilda. 

Hand in hand, they skated together, laughingly at first, then 
staidly talking in a low tone. 

Strange to say, Peter van Holp soon, arrived at a sudden 
conviction that his little sister needed a wooden chain just like 
Hilda’s. 


or, The Silver Skates 


45 


Two days afterward, on St. Nicholas Eve, Hans, having 
burned three candle-ends, and cut his thumb into the bargain, 
stood in the market-place at Amsterdam, buying another pair 
of skates. 



THE MARKET-PLACE, AMSTERDAM. 


46 


Hans Brinker 


V 

SHADOWS IN THE HOME 

G ood Dame Brinker ! As soon as the scanty dinner 
had been cleared away that noon, she had arrayed 
herself in her holiday attire in honor of St. Nicholas. “ It 
will brighten the children,” she thought to herself ; and she 
was not mistaken. This festival dress had been worn very 
seldom during the past ten years : before that time it had done 
good service, and had flourished at many a dance and kermis^ 
when she was known, far and wide, as the pretty Meitje 
Klenck. The children had sometimes been granted rare 
glimpses of it as it lay in state in the old oaken chest. Faded 
and threadbare as it was, it was gorgeous in their -eyes, with its 
white linen tucker, now gathered to her plump throat, and 
vanishing beneath the trim bodice of blue homespun, and its 
reddish brown skirt bordered with black. The knitted woollen 
mitts, and the dainty cap showing her hair, which generally 
was hidden, made her seem almost like a princess to Gretel ; 
while Master Hans grew staid and well-behaved as he gazed. 

Soon the little maid, while braiding her own golden tresses, 
fairly danced around her mother in an ecstasy of admiration. 

‘‘ O mother, mother, mother! how pretty you are! Look, 
Hans ! isn’t it just like a picture ? ” 

“Just like a picture,” assented Hans, cheerfully, — 
like a picture ; only I don’t like those stocking things on the 
hands.” 


or. The Silver Skates 


47 



“ Not like the mitts, 

Brother Hans ! why, 
they ’re very important. 

See, they cover up all 
the red. O mother ! 
how white your arm is 
where the mitt leaves 
off! — it ’s whiter than 
mine, oh, ever so much 
whiter 1 I do declare, 
mother, the bodice is 
tight for you. You ’re 
growing; you’re surely 
growing ! ” 

‘‘ This was made 
long ago, lovey, when 
I was not much thicker 
about the waist than 
a churn-dasher,” said 
Dame Brinker, add- 
ing, “ And how do you 
like the cap ? ” as she 
turned her head from 
side to side. 

“ Oh, ever so much, 
mother ! ” said Gretel. 

‘‘ It ’s beautiful ! See, 
the father is looking ! ” 

Was the father looking t Alas ! only with a dull stare. 
His vrouw turned toward him with a start, a questioning 
sparkle in her eye. The bright look died away in an instant. 


O MOTHER, MOTHER ! HOW PRETTY 
YOU ARE 1 ” 


48 


Hans Brinker 


“No, no,” she sighed: “he sees nothing. Come, Hans,” 
(and the smile crept faintly back again,) “ don’t stand gap- 
ing at me all day, and the new skates waiting for you at 
Amsterdam.” 

“ Ah, mother ! ” he answered, “ you need many things. 
Why should I buy skates ? ” 

“ Nonsense, child ! The money was given to you on pur- 
pose, or the work was — it ’s all the same thing. Go while the 
•sun is high.” 

“ Yes ; and hurry back, Hans ! ” laughed Gretel. “We ’ll 
race on the canal to-night, if the mother lets us.” 

At the very threshold he turned to say, “Your spinning- 
wheel wants a new treadle, mother.” 

“ You can make it, Hans.” 

“ So I can. That will take no money. But you need 
feathers and wool and meal, and — ” 

“There, there! that will do. Your silver cannot buy 
everything. Ah, Hans ! if our stolen money would but come 
back on this bright St. Nicholas’ Eve, how glad we would be ! 
Only last night, I prayed to the good saint — ” 

“ Mother I ” interrupted Hans, in dismay. 

“ Why not, Hans ? Shame on you to reproach me for 
that ! I ’m as true a Protestant, in sooth, as any fine lady 
that walks into church ; but it ’s no wrong to turn sometimes 
to the good St. Nicholas. Tut I It ’s a likely story if one 
can’t do that, without one’s children flaring up at it, and he 
the boys’ and girls’ own saint. Hoot ! mayhap the colt is a 
steadier horse than the mare ? ” 

Hans knew his mother too well to oppose her when her 
voice quickened and sharpened as it often did when she spoke 
of the missing money; so he said gently, — 


or, The Silver Skates 


49 


‘‘ And what did you ask of good St. Nicholas, mother ” 

“ Why, never to give the thieves a wink of sleep till they 
brought it back, to be sure, if he ’s power to do such things ; 
or else to brighten our wits that we might find it ourselves. 
Not a sight have I had of it since the day before the dear 
father was hurt, as you well know, Hans.” 

“ That I do, mother,” he answered sadly, ‘‘ though you 
have almost pulled down the cottage in searching.” 

“ Ay ; but it was of no use,” moaned the dame. “ ‘ Hiders 
make best finders.’ ” 

Hans started. “ Do you think the father could tell 
aught ? ” he asked mysteriously. 

“ Ay, indeed,” said Dame Brinker, nodding her head. “ I 
think so ; but that is no sign. I never hold the same belief in 
the matter two days. Mayhap the father paid it off for the 
great silver watch we have been guarding since that day. 
But, no, I ’ll never believe it.” 

“ The watch was not worth a quarter of the money, 
mother.” 

“ No, indeed ! And your father was a shrewd man up to 
the last moment. He was too steady and thrifty for silly 
doings.” 

‘‘ Where did the watch come from, I wonder,” muttered 
Hans, half to himself. 

Dame Brinker shook her head, and looked sadly toward her 
husband, who sat staring blankly at the floor. Gretel stood 
near him, knitting. 

“ That we shall never know, Hans. I have shown it to the 
father many a time ; but he does not know it from a potato. 
When he came in that dreadful night to supper, he handed the 
watch to me, and told me to take good care of it until he 


4 


50 


Hans Brinker 


asked for it again. Just as he opened his lips to say more, 
Broom Klatterboost came flying in with word that the dike 
was in danger. Ah ! the waters were terrible that holy Pinx- 
ter-week. My man, alack ! caught up his tools, and ran out. 
That was the last I ever saw of him in his right mind. He 
was brought in again by midnight, nearly dead, with his poor 
head all bruised and cut. The fever passed olf in time, but 
never the dulness ; that grew worse every day. We shall 
never know.” 

Hans had heard all this before. More than once he had 
seen his mother, in hours of sore need, take the watch from 
its hiding-place, half resolved to sell it : but she had always 
conquered the temptation. 

“ No, Hans ! ” she would say, “ we must be nearer starving 
than this before we turn faithless to the father.” 

A memory of some such scene came to the boy’s mind 
now ; for, after giving a heavy sigh, and fllliping a crumb of 
wax at Gretel across the table, he said, — 

“ Ay, mother, you have done bravely to keep it : many a 
one would have tossed it off for gold long ago.” 

“ And more shame for them ! ” exclaimed the dame, indig- 
nantly. ‘‘ I would not do it. Besides, the gentry are so hard 
on us poor folks, that if they saw such a thing in our hands, 
even if we told all, they might suspect the father — ” 

Hans flushed angrily. 

‘‘They would not dare to say such a thing, mother! If 
they did, I ’d — ” 

He clinched his fist, and seemed to think that the rest of 
his sentence was too terrible to utter in her presence. 

Dame Brinker smiled proudly through her tears at this 
interruption. 


or, The Silver Skates 


51 


“ Ah, Hans ! thou ’rt a true, brave lad. We will never part 
company with the watch. In his dying hour the dear father 
might wake, and ask for it.” 

“Might wake^ mother!” echoed Hans, — “wake — and 
know us ? ” 

“ Ay, child,” almost whispered his mother : “ such things 
have been.” 

By this time Hans had nearly forgotten his proposed errand 
to Amsterdam. His mother had seldom spoken so familiarly 
with him. He felt himself now to be not only her son, but 
her friend, her adviser. 

“You are right, mother. We must never give up the 
watch. For the father’s sake, we will guard it always. The 
money, though, may come to light when we least expect it.” 

“ Never ! ” cried Dame Brinker, taking the last stitch from 
her needle with a jerk, and laying the unfinished knitting 
heavily upon her lap. “ There is no chance. One thousand 
guilders — and all gone in a day I One thousand guilders! 
Oh ! what ever did become of them ? If they went in an evil 
way, the thief would have confessed by this on his dying bed : 
he would not dare to die with such guilt on his soul.” 

“He may not be dead yet,” said Hans, soothingly: “any 
day we may hear of him.” 

“ Ah, child ! ” she said in a changed tone, “ what thief 
would ever have come here? It was always neat and clean, 
thank God ! but not fine ; for the father and I saved and 
saved, that we might have something laid by. ‘ Little and 
often soon fills the pouch.’ We found it so in truth : be- 
sides, the father had a goodly sum already, for service done to 
the Heernocht lands at the time of the great inundation. 
Every week we had a guilder left over, sometimes more j for 


Hans Brinker 


52 

the father worked extra hours, and could get high pay for his 
labor. Every Saturday night we put something by, except the 
time when you had the fever, Hans, and when Gretel came. 
At last the pouch grew so full that I mended an old stocking, 
and commenced again. Now that I look back, it seems that 
the money was up to the heel in a few sunny weeks. There 
was great pay in those days, if a man was quick at engineer 
work. The stocking went on filling with copper and silver, 
ay, and gold. You may well open your eyes, Gretel. I used 
to laugh, and tell the father it was not for poverty I wore my 
old gown. And the stocking went on filling, so full, that 
sometimes, when I woke at night, I ’d get up, soft and quiet, 
and go feel it in the moonlight. Then, on my knees, I would 
thank our Lord that my little ones could in time get good 
learning, and that the father might rest from labor in his old 
age. Sometimes, at supper, the father and I would talk about 
a new chimney, and a good winter-room for the cow ; but my 
man, forsooth, had finer plans even than that. ‘ A big sail,’ 
says he, ‘ catches the wind : we can do what we will soon,’ 
and then we would sing together as I washed my dishes. Ah, 
‘ a smooth sea makes an easy rudder.’ Not a thing vexed me 
from morning till night. Every week the father would take 
out the stocking, and drop in the money, and laugh, and kiss 
me, as we tied it up together. — Up with you, Hans ! there you 
sit gaping, and the day a-wasting ! ” added Dame Brinker, 
tartly, blushing to find that she had been speaking too freely 
to her boy. “ It ’s high time you were on your way.” 

Hans had seated himself, and was looking earnestly into her 
face. He arose, and, in almost a whisper, asked, — 

“ Have you ever tried^ mother ” 

She understood him. 


or, The Silver Skates 


53 


“Yes, child, often. But the father only laughs; or he 
stares at me so strange, 1 am glad to ask no more. When 
you and Gretel had the fever last winter, and our bread was 
nearly gone, and I could earn nothing, for fear you would die 
while my face was turned, oh, I tried then ! I smoothed his 
hair, and whispered to him soft as a kitten, about the money, 
— where it was, who had it Alack ! he would pick at my 
sleeve, and whisper gibberish till my blood ran cold. At last, 
while Gretel lay whiter than snow, and you were raving on the 
bed, I screamed to him, — it seemed as if he must hear me, — 
‘ RafF, where is our money ? Do you know aught of the 
money. Raff? — the money in the pouch and the stocking, in 
the big chest ? ’ But I might as well have talked to a stone ; 
I might as — ” 

I'he mother’s voice sounded so strangely, and her eye was 
so bright, that Hans, with a new anxiety, laid his hand upon 
her shoulder. 

“ Come, mother,” he said, “ let us try to forget this money. 
I am big and strong : Gretel, too, is very quick and willing. 
Soon all will be prosperous with us again. Why, mother ! 
Gretel and I would rather see thee bright and happy than to 
have all the silver in the world. Wouldn’t we, Gretel ? ” 

“ The mother knows it,” said Gretel, sobbing. 


54 


Hans Brinker 


VI 

SUNBEAMS 

D ame brinker was startled at her children’s emo- 
tion, — glad, too, for it proved how loving and true 
they were. 

Beautiful ladies in princely homes often smile suddenly and 
sweetly, gladdening the very air around them ; but I doubt it 
their smile be more welcome in God’s sight than that which 
sprang forth to cheer the roughly clad boy and girl in the 
humble cottage. Dame Brinker felt that she had been selfish. 
Blushing and brightening, she hastily wiped her eyes, and 
looked upon them as only a mother can. 

“ Hoity, toity ! Pretty talk we ’re having, and St. Nicholas 
Eve almost here ! What wonder the yarn pricks my fingers ! 
Come, Gretel, take this cent ; ^ and, while Hans is trading for 
the skates, you can buy a waffle in the market-place.” 

‘‘ Let me stay home with you, mother,” said Gretel, looking 
up with eyes that sparkled through their tears. Hans will 
buy me the cake.” 

“ As you will, child. And, Hans — wait a moment. Three 
turns of the needle will finish this toe ; and then you may 
have as good a pair of hose as ever was knitted (owning the 
yarn is a grain too sharp) to sell to the hosier on the Heireen 
Gracht.2 That will give us three quarter-guilders, if you 

^ The Dutch cent is worth less than half of an American cent. 

2 A street in Amsterdam. 


or. The Silver Skates 


55 


make good trade ; and, as it ’s right hungry weather, you 
may buy four waffles. We’ll keep the Feast of St. Nicholas, 
after all.” 

Gretel clapped her hands. “ That will be fine ! Annie 
Bouman told me what grand times they will have in the big 
houses to-night. But we shall be merry too. Hans will have 
beautiful new skates, — and then there’ll be the waffles! 
Oh-h ! Don’t break them. Brother Hans. Wrap them 
well, and button them under your jacket very carefully.” 

“ Certainly,” replied Hans, quite gruff with pleasure and 
importance. 

“ O mother I ” cried Gretel, in high glee, “ soon you will be 
busied with the father, and now you are only knitting. Do 
tell us all about St. Nicholas.” 

Dame Brinker laughed to see Hans hang up his hat, and 
prepare to listen. “ Nonsense, children I ” she said. “ I have 
told it to you often.” 

“ Tell us again ! oh, do tell us again ! ” cried Gretel, throw- 
ing herself upon the wonderful wooden bench that her brother 
had made on the mother’s last birthday. Hans, not wishing 
to appear childish, and yet quite willing to hear the story, stood 
carelessly swinging his skates against the fireplace. 

“ Well, children, you shall hear it ; but we must never waste 
the daylight again in this way. Pick up your ball, Gretel, and 
let your sock grow as I talk. Opening your ears need not shut 
your fingers. St. Nicholas, you must know, is a wonderful 
saint. He keeps his eye open for the good of sailors ; but he 
cares most of all for boys and girls. Well, once upon a time, 
when he was living on the earth, a merchant of Asia sent his 
three sons to a great city, called Athens, to get learning.” 

“ Is Athens in Holland, mother ? ” asked Gretel. 


56 


Hans Brinker 


“ I don’t know, child. Probably it is.” 

“ Oh, no, mother ! ” said Hans, respectfully. “ I had that 
in my geography lessons long ago. Athens is in Greece.” 

“ Well,” resumed the mother, what matter ^ Greece may 
belong to the king, for aught we know. Anyhow, this rich 
merchant sent his sons to Athens. While they were on their 
way, they stopped one night at a shabby inn, meaning to take 
up their journey in the morning. Well, they had very fine 
clothes, — velvet and silk, it may be, such as rich folks’ children 
all over the world think nothing of wearing ; and their belts, 
likewise, were full of money. What did the wicked landlord 
do, but contrive a plan to kill the children, and take their money 
and all their beautiful clothes himself.? So that night, when 
all the world was asleep, he got up and killed the three young 
gentlemen.” 

Gretel clasped her hands and shuddered ; but Hans tried 
to look as if killing and murder were every-day matters to 
him. 

“ That was not the worst of it,” continued Dame Brinker, 
knitting slowly, and trying to keep count of her stitches as she 
talked : “ that was not near the worst of it. 7'he dreadful land- 
lord went and cut up the young gentlemen’s bodies into little 
pieces, and threw them into a great tub of brine, intending to 
sell them for pickled pork.” 

Oh ! ” cried Gretel, horror-stricken, though she had often 
heard the story before. Hans still continued unmoved, and 
seemed to think that pickling was the best that could be done 
under the circumstances. 

“Yes, he pickled them; and one might think that would 
have been the last of the young gentlemen. But no. That 
night St. Nicholas had a wonderful vision ; and in it he saw 



HANS AND GRETEL HEAR THE STORY OF ST. NICHOLAS 







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or. The Silver Skates 


59 


the landlord cutting up the merchant’s children. There was 
no need of his hurrying, you know, for he was a saint ; but in 
the morning he went to the inn, and charged the landlord with 
the murder. Then the wicked landlord confessed it from 
beginning to end, and fell down on his knees, begging forgive- 
ness. He felt so sorry for what he had done, that he asked the 
saint to bring the young masters to life.” 

“ And did the saint do it ? ” asked Gretel, delighted, well 
knowing what the answer would be. 

‘‘ Of course he did. The pickled pieces flew together in a 
flash, and out jumped the young gentlemen from the brine-tub. 
They cast themselves at the feet of St. Nicholas, and he gave 
them his blessing and — oh mercy on us Hans ! it will be dark 
before you get back if you don’t start this minute.” 

By this time Dame Brinker was almost out of breath, and 
quite out of commas. She could not remember when she had 
seen the children idle away an hour of daylight in this manner, 
and the thought of such luxury quite appalled her. By way of 
compensation, she now flew about the room in extreme haste. 
Tossing a block of peat upon the fire, blowing invisible dust 
from the table, and handing the finished hose to Hans, all in an 
instant, — 

“ Come, Hans,” she said, as her boy lingered by the door, 
“ what keeps thee ? ” 

Hans kissed his mother’s plump cheek, rosy and fresh yet, 
in spite of all her troubles. “ My mother is the best in the 
world, and I would be right glad to have a pair of skates ; 
but ” — and, as he buttoned his jacket, he looked, in a troubled 
way, toward a strange figure crouching by the hearthstone — 
‘‘ if my money would bring a meester ^ from Amsterdam to see 
the father, something might yet be done.” 

1 Doctor {dokter in Dutch) called meester by the lower class. 


6o 


Hans Brinker 


“ A meester would not come, Hans, for twice that money ; 
and it would do no good, if he did. Ah, how many guilders I 
once spent for that ! But the dear, good father would not 
waken. It is God’s will. Go, Hans, and buy the skates.” 

Hans started with a heavy heart ; but since the heart was 
young, and in a boy’s bosom, it set him whistling in less than 
five minutes. His mother had said “ thee ” to him ; and that 
was quite enough to make even a dark day sunny. Hollanders 
do not address each other in affectionate intercourse, as the 
French and Germans do. But Dame Brinker had embroidered 
for a Heidelberg family in her girlhood ; and she had carried its 
“ thee ” and “ thou ” into her rude home, to be used in moments 
of extreme love and tenderness. 

Therefore, “ What keeps thee, Hans ” sang an echo-song 
beneath the boy’s whistling, and made him feel that his errand 
was blest. 



BY THE TOWN OF BROEK. 


VII 

HANS HAS HIS WAY 

B ROEK, with its quiet, spotless streets, its frozen rivulets, 
its yellow brick pavements, and bright wooden houses, 
was near by. It was a village where neatness and show were 
in full blossom; but the inhabitants seemed to be either asleep 
or dead. 

Not a footprint marred the sanded paths, where pebbles and 
sea-shells lay in fanciful designs. Every window-shutter was 
closed as tightly as though air and sunshine were poison ; and 
the massive front doors were never opened, except on the 
occasion of a wedding, a christening or a funeral. 


62 


Hans Brinker 


Serene clouds of tobacco-smoke were floating through hidden 
apartments ; and children, who otherwise might have awakened 
the place, were studying in out-of-the-way corners, or skating 
upon the neighboring canal. A few peacocks and wolves stood 
in the gardens ; but they had never enjoyed the luxury of flesh 
and blood. They were cut out in growing box, and seemed 
guarding the grounds with a sort of green ferocity. Certain 
lively automata — ducks, women and sportsmen — were stowed 
away in summer-houses, waiting for the springtime, when they 
could be wound up, and rival their owners in animation ; and 
the shining, tiled roofs, mosaic courtyards and polished house- 
trimmings, flashed up a silent homage to the sky, where never 
a speck of dust could dwell. 

Hans glanced toward the village, as he shook his silver 
kwartjes^ and wondered whether it were really true, as he had 
often heard, that some of the people of Broek were so rich 
that they used kitchen utensils of solid gold. 

He had seen Mevrouw van Stoop’s sweet cheeses in market, 
and he knew that the lofty dame earned many a bright silver 
guilder in selling them. But “ did she set the cream to rise in 
golden pans ? Did she use a golden skimmer ? When her 
cows were in winter-quarters, were their tails really tied up 
with ribbons ? ” 

These thoughts ran through his mind as he turned his face 
toward Amsterdam, not five miles away, on the other side of 
the frozen Y.^ The ice upon the canal was perfect ; but his 
wooden runners, so soon to be cast aside, squeaked a dismal 
farewell, as he scraped and skimmed along. 

When crossing the Y, whom should he see skating toward 
him, but the great Dr. Boekman, the most famous physician 
* Pronounced ejey an arm of the Zuyder-Zee. 


or. The Silver Skates 


63 


and surgeon in Holland ! Hans had never met him before ; 
but he had seen his engraved likeness in many of the shop- 
windows of Amsterdam. It was a face that one could never 
forget. Thin and lank, though a born Dutchman, with stern 
blue eyes, and queer, compressed lips, that seemed to say, “ No 
smiling allowed,” he certainly was not a very jolly or sociable 
looking personage, nor one that a well-trained boy would care 
to accost unbidden. 

But Hans was bidden, and that, too, by a voice he seldom 
disregarded, — his own conscience. 

‘‘ Here comes the greatest doctor in the world,” whispered 
the voice. ‘‘God has sent him. You have no right to buy 
skates, when you might, with the same money, purchase such 
aid for your father.” 

The wooden runners gave an exultant squeak. Hundreds, 
of beautiful skates were gleaming and vanishing in the air 
above him. He felt the money tingle in his fingers. The 
old doctor looked fearfully grim and forbidding. Hans’ heart 
was in his throat ; but he found voice enough to cry out, just 
as he was passing, — 

“ Mynheer Boekman ! ” 

The great man halted, and, sticking out his thin under-lip, 
looked scowlingly about him. 

Hans was in for it now. 

“ Mynheer,” he panted, drawing close to the fierce-looking 
doctor, “ I knew you could be none other than the famous 
Boekman. I have to ask a great favor — ” 

“ Humph ! ” muttered the doctor, preparing to skate past 
the intruder. “ Get out of the way — I ’ve no money — 
never give to beggars.” 

“ I am no beggar, mynheer,” retorted Hans, proudly, at the 


64 


Hans Brinker 



same time producing his mite of silver with a grand air. “ I 
wish to consult with you about my father. He is a living 

man, but sits like one 
dead. He cannot even 
think i and his words 
mean nothing. But 
he is not sick. He 
fell on the dikes.” 

“Hey? what?” 
cried the doctor, be- 
ginning to listen. 

Hans told the whole 
story in an incoherent 
way, dashing off a tear 
once or twice as he 
talked, and finally end- 
ing with an earnest, — 

“ Oh, do see him, 
mynheer ! His body 
is well ; it is only his 
mind. I know this 
money is not enough ; 
but take it, mynheer. 
I shall earn more, I 
know I shall. Oh, 1 
will toil for you all 
my life, if you will but cure my father ! ” 

What was the matter with the old doctor ? A brightness 
like sunlight beamed from his face. His eyes were kind and 
moist. The hand that had lately clutched his cane, as if pre- 
paring to strike, was laid gently upon Hans’ shoulder. 


HANS AND DOCTOR BOEKMAN. 



or. The Silver Skates 


65 


“ Put up your money, boy, I do not want it. We will see 
your father. It is a hopeless case, I fear. How long did you 
say ? ” 

“ Ten years, mynheer,” sobbed Hans, radiant with sudden 
hope. 

‘‘ Ah ! a bad case. But I shall see him. Let me think. 
Po-day I start for Leyden, to return in a week; then you 
may expect me. Where is it ? ” 

“ A mile south of Broek, mynheer, near the canal. It is 
only a poor, broken-down hut. Any of the children there- 
about can point it out to your Honor,” added Hans, with a 
heavy sigh. “ They are all half afraid of the place : they call 
it the ‘ idiot’s cottage.’ ” 

“ That will do,” said the doctor, hurrying on, with a bright 
backward nod at Hans : “ I shall be there. A hopeless case,” 
he muttered to himself ; “ but the boy pleases me. His eye 
is like my poor Laurens. Confound it ! shall I never forget 
that young scoundrel ” And, scowling more darkly than 
ever, the doctor pursued his silent way. 

Again Hans was skating toward Amsterdam, on the squeak- 
ing wooden runners ; again his fingers tingled against the 
money in his pocket ; again the boyish whistle rose uncon- 
sciously to his lips. 

“ Shall I hurry home,” he was thinking, “ to tell the good 
news ; or shall I get the waffles and the new skates first ? 
Whew ! I think I ’ll go on ! ” 

And so Hans bought the skates. 


5 


66 


Hans Brinker 


VIII 

INTRODUCING JACOB FOOT AND HIS COUSIN 

H ans and Gretel had a fine frolic early on that St. 

Nicholas Eve. 7'here was a bright moon ; and their 
mother, though she believed herself to be without any hope 
of her husband’s improvement, had been made so happy at 
the prospect of the rneester^s visit, that she had yielded to the 
children’s entreaties for an hour’s skating before bed-time. 

Hans was delighted with his new skates ; and, in his eager- 
ness to show Gretel how perfectly they worked,” did many 
things upon the ice that caused the little maid to clasp her 
hands in solemn admiration. They were not alone, though 
they seemed quite unheeded by the various groups assembled 
upon the canal. 

The two Van Holps and Carl Schummel were there, testing 
their fleetness to the utmost. Out of four trials, Peter van 
Holp had beaten three times. Consequently, Carl, never verj' 
amiable, was in anything but a good humor. He had relieved 
himself by taunting young Schimmelpenninck, who, being 
smaller than the others, kept meekly near them, without feel- 
ing exactly like one of the party. But now a new thought 
seized Carl ; or, rather, he seized the new thought, and made 
an onset upon his friends. . > 

“ I say, boys, let ’s put a stop to those young rag-pickers 
from the idiot’s cottage joining the race. Hilda must be crazy 


or, The Silver Skates 


67 


to think of it. Katrinka Flack and Rychie Korbes are furious 
at the very idea of racing with the girl ; and, for my part, I 
don’t blame them. As for the boy, if we ’ve a spark of man- 
hood in us, we will scorn the very idea of — ” 

‘‘ Certainly we will,” interposed Peter van Holp, purposely 
mistaking Carl’s meaning. ‘‘Who doubts it? No fellow with 
a spark of manhood in him would refuse to let in two good 
skaters, just because they were poor.” 

Carl wheeled about savagely. 

“ Not so fast, master ! And I ’d thank you not to put words 
in other people’s mouths. You ’d best not try it again.” 

“ Ha, ha ! ” laughed little Voostenwalbert Schimmelpennick, 
delighted at the prospect of a fight, and sure that, if it should 
come to blows, his favorite Peter could beat a dozen excitable 
fellows like Carl. 

Something in Peter’s eye made Carl glad to turn to a weaker 
offender. He wheeled furiously upon Voost. 

“ What are you shrieking about, you little weasel? You 
skinny herring, you ! you little monkey with a long name for a 
tail ! ” 

Half a dozen bystanders and byskaters set up an applauding 
shout at this brave witticism ; and Carl, feeling that he had 
fairly vanquished his foes, was restored to partial good humor. 
He, however, prudently resolved to defer plotting against Hans 
and Gretel until some time when Peter should not be present. 

Just then his friend Jacob Poot was seen approaching. They 
could not distinguish his features at first ; but, as he was the 
stoutest boy in the neighborhood, there could be no mistaking 
his form. 

“Halloo! here comes Fatty!” exclaimed Carl. “And 
there’s some one with him, — a slender fellow, a stranger.” 


68 


Hans Brinker 


‘‘ Ha, ha ! that ’s like good bacon,’' cried Ludwig, — “a 
streak of lean and a streak of fat.” 

That ’s Jacob’s English cousin,” put in Master Voost, 
delighted at being able to give the information. That ’s his 

English cousin ; and, oh, he ’s 
got such a funny little name ! — 
Ben Dobbs. He ’s going to 
stay with him until after the 
grand race.” 

All this time the boys had 
been Spinning, turning, “ roll- 
ing,” and doing other feats upon 
their skates in a quiet way, as 
they talked ; but now they stood 
still, bracing themselves against 
the frosty air, as Jacob Foot 
and his friend drew near. 

“ This is my cousin, boys,” 
said Jacob, rather out of breath, 
— “ Benjamin Dobbs. He ’s 
a John Bull; and he’s going 
to .be in the race.” 

All crowded, boy-fashion, 
about the new-comers. Ben- 
jamin soon made up his mind that the Hollanders, notwith- 
standing their queer gibberish, were a fine set of fellows. 

If the truth must be told, Jacob had announced his cousin 
as Penchamin Dopps,” and called him a “ Shon Pull ; ” but, 
as I translate every word of the conversation of our young 
friends, it is no more than fair to mend their little attempts 
at English. Master Dobbs felt at first decidedly awkward 



JACOB AND BEN : A STREAK OF 

LEAN AND A STREAK OF FAT.” 


or. The Silver Skates 


69 

among his cousin’s friends. Though most of them had studied 
English and French, they were shy about attempting to speak 
either ; and he made very funny blunders when he tried to 
converse in Dutch. He had learned that vrouw means “ wife 
and ja^ ‘‘ yes ; ” and spoorweg^ ‘‘ railway ; ” kanaals^ “ canals ; ” 
stoomboot^ ‘‘ steamboat ; ” ophaalbruggen^ drawbridges ; ” buiten 
plasten^ ‘‘ country-seats ; ” mynheer^ ‘‘ mister ; ” tweegevegt^ 
‘‘ duel,” or ‘‘ two-fights ; ” koper^ ‘‘ copper \ ” %adel^ saddle : ” 
but he could not make a sentence out of these, nor use the long 
list of phrases he had learned in his Dutch Dialogues.” The 
topics of the latter were fine, but were never alluded to by the 
boys. Like the poor fellow who had learned in “ Ollendorff” 
to ask in faultless German, Have you seen my grandmother’s 
red cow ? ” and, when he reached Germany, discovered that 
he had no occasion to inquire after that interesting animal, Ben 
found that his book Dutch did not avail him as much as he had 
hoped. He acquired a hearty contempt for Jan van Gorp, a 
Hollander who wrote a book in Latin to prove that Adam and 
Eve spoke Dutch ; and he smiled a knowing smile when his 
Uncle Foot assured him that Dutch had great likeness mit 
Zinglish ; but it vash much petter languish, much petter.” 

However, the fun of skating glides over all barriers of speech. 
Through this, Ben soon felt that he knew the boys well ; and, 
when Jacob (with a sprinkling of French and English for Ben’s 
benefit) told of a grand project they had planned, his cousin 
could now and then put in a ja, or a nod, in quite a familiar 
way. 

The project was a grand one, and there was to be a fine 
opportunity for carrying it out ; for, besides the allotted holi- 
day of the Festival of St. Nicholas, four extra days were to be 
allowed for a general cleaning of the schoolhouse. 


70 


Hans Brinker 


Jacob and Ben had obtained permission to go on a long skat- 
ing-journey ; no less a one than from Broek to the Hague, the 
capital of Holland, — a distance of nearly fifty miles. ^ 

“ And now, boys,” added Jacob when he had told the plan, 
“ who will go with us ? ” 

‘‘ I will, I will ! ” cried the boys, eagerly. 

‘‘And so will I,” ventured little Voostenwalbert. 

“ Ha, ha ! ” laughed Jacob, holding his fat sides, and 
shaking his puffy cheeks. “ Tou go ? Such a little fellow 
as you ! Why, youngster, you haven’t left off your pads 
yet ! ” 

Now, in Holland, very young children wear a thin, padded 
cushion around their heads, surmounted with a framework of 
whalebone and ribbon, to protect them in 
case of a fall ; and it is the dividing-line 
between babyhood and childhood when 
they leave it oft'. Voost had arrived at 
this dignity several years before ; conse- 
quently Jacob’s insult was rather too 
great for endurance. 

“ Look out what you say ! ” he 
squeaked. “ Lucky for you when you 
can leave off your pads. You ’re padded 
all over ! ” 

READY FOR A TUMBLE. « Ha, ha ! ” Foared all the boys except 
Master Dobbs, who could not under- 
stand. “Ha, ha!” and the good-natured Jacob laughed more 
than any. 

1 Throughout this narrative, distances are given according to our 
standard, — the English statute mile of 5,280 feet. The Dutch mile is 
more than four times as long as ours. 



or, The Silver Skates 


71 

“ It ish my fat — yaw — he say I bees pad mit fat ! ” he 
explained to Ben. 

So a vote was passed unanimously in favor of allowing 
the now popular Voost to join the party, if his parents would 
consent. ► 

“ Good-night ! sang out the happy youngster, skating home- 
ward with all his might. 

“ Good-night ! ” 

“ We can stop at Haarlem, Jacob, and show your cousin 
the big organ,” said Peter van Holp, eagerly ; ‘‘ and at Leyden, 
too, where there ’s no end to the sights ; and spend a day and 
night at the Hague, for my married sister, who lives there, will 
be delighted to see us ; and the next morning we can start for 
home.” 

“ All right,” responded Jacob, who was not much of a 
talker. 

Ludwig had been regarding his brother with enthusiastic 
admiration. 

‘‘ Hurrah for you, Pete ! It takes you to make p’ans. 
Mother ’ll be as full of it as we are, when we tell her we can 
take her love direct to Sister van Gend. My ! but it ’s cold,” 
he added, — ‘‘ cold enough to take a fellow’s head off his shoul- 
ders. We’d better go home.” 

“ What if it is cold, old tender-skin ? ” cried Carl, who was 
busily practising a step which he called the “ double-edge.” 

Great skating we should have by this time, if it was as warm 
as it was last December. Don’t you know if it wasn’t an 
extra cold winter, and an early one, into the bargain, we 
couldn’t go ” 

“I know it’s an extra cold night, anyhow,” said Ludwig. 
‘‘ Whew, I ’m going home ! ” 


72 


Hans Brinker 


Peter van Holp took out a bulgy gold watch, and, holding it 
toward the moonlight as well as his benumbed fingers would 
permit, called out, — 

‘‘ Halloo, it ’s nearly eight o’clock ! St. Nicholas is about 
by this time ; and I, for one, want to see the little ones stare. 
Good-night ! ” 

“ Good-night ! ” cried one and all ; and off they started, 
shouting, singing and laughing as they flew along. 

Where were Gretel and Hans ? 

Ah ! how suddenly joy sometimes comes to an end ! 

They had skated about an hour, — keeping aloof from the 
others, quite contented with each other; and Gretel had ex- 
claimed, Ah, Hans, how beautiful, how fine, to think that 
we both have skates ! I tell you the stork brought us good 
luck,” — when they heard something. 

It was a scream, a very faint scream. No one else upon 
the canal observed it; but Hans knew its meaning too well. 
Gretel saw him turn white in the moonlight as he hastily tore 
olFhis skates. 

The father ! ” he cried. ‘‘ He has frightened our 
mother ; ” and Gretel ran after him toward the house as hard 
as she could. 


or, The Silver Skates 


73 


IX 


THE FESTIVAL OF ST. NICHOLAS 



^ 7 E all know how, before the Christmas-tree began to 
▼ ^ flourish in the home-life of our country, a certain 
“right jolly old elf,” 
with “ eight tiny rein- 
deer,” used to drive 
his sleigh-load of toys 
up to our housetops, 
and then bound down 
the chimney to fill the 
stockings so hopefully 
hung by the fireplace. 

His friends called him 
Santa Claus; and those 
who were most inti- 
mate ventured to say, 

“ Old Nick.” It was 
said that he originally 
came from Holland. 

Doubtless he did ; but, 
if so, he certainly, like 

’ / ’ SANTA CLAUS. 

many other foreigners, 

changed his ways very much after landing upon our shores. 
In Holland, St. Nicholas is a veritable saint, and often appears 



74 


Hans Brinker 


in full costume, with his embroidered robes glittering with 
gems and gold, his mitre, his crosier, and his jewelled gloves. 
Here Santa Claus comes rollicking along on the 25th of De- 
cember, our holy Christmas morn ; but in Holland, St. 
Nicholas visits earth on the 5th, a time especially appropriated 
to him. Early on the morning of the 6th, which is St. 
Nicholas Day, he distributes his candies, toys and treasures, 
and then vanishes for a year. 

Christmas Day is devoted by the Hollanders to church-rites 
and pleasant family visiting. It is on St. Nicholas Eve that 
their young people become half wild with joy and expectation. 
To some of them it is a sorry time ; for the saint is very can- 
did, and, if any of them have been bad during the past year, 
he is quite sure to tell them so. Sometimes he carries a birch- 
rod under his arm, and advises the parents to give them scold- 
ings in place of confections, and floggings instead of toys. 

It was well that the boys hastened to their abodes on that 
bright winter evening ; for, in less than an hour afterwards, 
the saint made his appearance in half the homes of Holland. 
He visited the king’s palace, and in the selfsame moment ap- 
peared in Annie Bouman’s comfortable home. Probably one 
of our silver half-dollars would have purchased all that his 
saintship left at the peasant Bouman’s. But a half-dollar’s 
worth will sometimes do for the poor what hundreds of dollars 
may fail to do for the rich : it makes them happy and grateful, 
fills them with new peace and love. 

Hilda van Gleck’s little brothers and sisters were in a high 
state of excitement that night. They had been admitted into 
the grand parlor : they were dressed in their best, and had 
been given two cakes apiece at supper. Hilda was as joyous 
as any. Why not ? St. Nicholas would never cross a girl of 


or. The Silver Skates 


75 


fourteen from his list, just because she was tall and looked 
almost like a woman. On the contrary, he would probably 
exert himself to do honor to such an august-looking damsel. 
Who could tell ? So she sported and laughed and danced as 
gayly as the youngest, and was the soul of all their merry 
games. Father, mother and grandmother looked on approv- 
ingly ; so did grandfather, before he spread his large red 
handkerchief over his face, leaving only the top of his skull- 
cap visible. This kerchief was his ensign of sleep. 

Earlier in the evening, all had joined in the fun. In the 
general hilarity, there had seemed to be a difference only in 
bulk between grandfather and the baby. Indeed, a shade of 
solemn expectation, now and then flitting across the faces of 
the younger members, had made them seem rather more 
thoughtful than their elders. 

Now the spirit of fun reigned supreme. The very flames 
danced and capered in the polished grate. A pair of prim 
candles, that had been staring at the astral lamp, began to wink 
at other candles far away in the mirrors. There was a long 
bell-rope suspended from the ceiling in the corner, made of 
glass beads, netted over a cord nearly as thick as your wrist. 
It generally hung in the shadow, and made no sign ; but to- 
night it twinkled from end to end. Its handle of crimson 
glass sent reckless dashes of red at the papered wall, turning 
its dainty blue stripes into purple. Passers-by halted to catch 
the merry laughter floating through curtain and sash into the 
street, then skipped on their way with the startled conscious- 
ness that the village was wide awake. At last matters grew 
so uproarious that the grandsire’s red kerchief came down 
from his face with a jerk. What decent old gentleman could 
sleep in such a racket ! Mynheer van Gleck regarded his 


76 


Hans Brinker 


children with astonishment. The baby even showed symp- 
toms of hysterics. It was high time to attend to business. 
Mevrouw suggested that, if they wished to see the good St. 
Nicholas, they should sing the same loving invitation that had 
brought him the year before. 

The baby stared, and thrust his fist into his mouth, as mynheer 
put him down upon the floor. Soon he sat erect, and looked 
with a sweet scowl at the company. With his lace and em- 
broideries, and his crown of blue ribbon and whalebone (for he 
was not quite past the tumbling age), he looked like the king 
of the babies. 

The other, children, each holding a pretty willow basket, 
formed at once in a ring, and moved slowly around the little 
fellow, lifting their eyes meanwhile ; for the saint to whom 
they were about to address themselves was yet in mysterious 
quarters. 

Mevrouw commenced playing softly upon the piano ; soon 
the voices rose, — gentle, youthful voices, rendered all the 
sweeter for their tremor, — 

“ Welcome, friend ! St. Nicholas, welcome ! 

Bring no rod for us to-night ! 

While our voices bid thee welcome. 

Every heart with joy is light. 

“ Tell us every fault and falling ; 

We will bear thy keenest railing 
So we sing, so we sing : 

Thou shalt tell us everything ! 

“ Welcome, friend ! St. Nicholas, welcome ! 

Welcome to this merry band ! 

Happy children greet thee, welcome ! 

Thou art gladdening all the land. 


or, The Silver Skates 


77 


“ Fill each empty hand and basket ; 

’T is thy little ones who ask it. 

So we sing, so we sing ; 

Thou wilt bring us everything ! ” 

During the chorus, sundry glances, half in eagerness, half in 
dread, had been cast towards the polished folding-doors. Now 
a loud knocking was heard. The circle was broken in an 
instant. Some of the little ones, with a strange mixture of fear 
and delight, pressed against their mother’s knee. Grandfather 
bent forward, with his chin resting upon his hand ; grandmother 
lifted her spectacles ; Mynheer van Gleck, seated by the fire- 
place, slowly drew his meerschaum from his mouth; while 
Hilda and the other children settled themselves beside him in 
an expectant group. 

The knocking was heard again. 

Come in,” said the mevrouw, softly. 

The door slowly opened ; and St. Nicholas, in full array, 
stood before them. You could have heard a pin drop. Soon 
he spoke. What a mysterious majesty in his voice ! what 
kindliness in his tones ! 

Karel van Gleck, I am pleased to greet thee, and thy 
honored vrouw^ Kathrine, and thy son, and his good vrouw^ 
Annie. 

“ Children, I greet ye all, — Hendrick, Hilda, Broom, Katy, 
Huygens and Lucretia. And thy cousins, — Wolfert, Diedrich, 
Mayken, Voost and Katrina. Good children ye have been, 
in the main, since I last accosted ye. Diedrich was rude at the 
Haarlem fair last fall ; but he has tried to atone for it since. 
Mayken has failed, of late, in her lessons ; and too many sweets 
and trifles have gone to her lips, and too few stivers to her 
charity-box. Diedrich, I trust, will be a polite, manly boy for 



7^ Hans Brinker 

the future ; and Mayken will endeavor to shine as a student. 
Let her remember, too, that economy and thrift are needed in 


ST, NICHOLAS IN FULL ARRAY STOOD BEPORL THEM. 


the foundation of a worthy and generous life. Little Katy has 
been cruel to the cat more than once. St. Nicholas can hear 




or. The Silver Skates 


79 


the cat cry when its tail is pulled. I will forgive her, if she 
will remember from this hour that the smallest dumb creatures 
have feeling, and must not be abused.’’ 

As Katy burst into a frightened cry, the saint graciously 
remained silent until she was soothed. 

“ Master Broom,” he resumed, “ I warn thee that boys who 
are in the habit of putting snulF upon the foot-stove of the 
school-mistress may one day be discovered, and receive a 
flogging — ” 

[Master Broom colored, and stared in great astonishment.] 

“ But, thou art such an excellent scholar, I shall make thee 
no further reproof. 

“ Thou, Hendrick, didst distinguish thyself in the archery 
match last spring, and hit the doel^ though the bird was swung 
before it to unsteady thine eye. I give thee credit for excelling 
in manly sport and exercise ; though I must not unduly coun- 
tenance thy boat-racing, since it leaves thee too little time for 
thy proper studies. 

“ Lucretia and Hilda shall have a blessed sleep to-night. 
I'he consciousness of kindness to the poor, devotion in their 
souls, and cheerful, hearty obedience to household rule, will 
render them happy. 

“ With one and all I avow myself well content. Goodness, 
industry, benevolence and thrift have prevailed in your midst. 
Therefore, my blessing upon you ; and may the New Year find 
all treading the paths of obedience, wisdom and love ! To- 
morrow you shall find more substantial proofs that I have been 
in your home. P'arewell ! ” 

With these words came a great shower of sugar-plums upon 
a linen sheet spread out in front of the doors. A general 
1 Bull’s-eye. 


8o 


Hans Brinker 


scramble followed. The children fairly tumbled over each 
other in their eagerness to fill their baskets. Mevrouw cau- 
tiously held the baby down upon the sheet till the chubby little 
fists were filled. Then the bravest of the youngsters sprang 
up and threw open the closed doors. In vain they searched the 
mysterious apartment. St. Nicholas was nowhere to be seen. 

Soon they all sped to another room, where stood 
a table, covered with the whitest of linen damask. 
Each child, in a flutter of pleasure, laid a shoe upon it, 
and each shoe held a little hay for the good saint’s horse. 
The door was then carefully locked, and its key hidden in the 
mother’s bedroom. Next followed good-night kisses, a grand 

family procession 
to the upper floor, 
merry farewells at 
bedroom doors, 
and silence, at last, 
reigned in the Van 
deck mansion. 

Early the next 
morning, the door 
was solemnly un- 
locked and opened 
in the presence of 

SHOES ON THE TABLE ON ST. NICHOLAS EVE. aSSCmblcd 

household ; when, 

lo ! a sight appeared, proving good St. Nicholas to be a saint 
of his word. 

Every shoe was filled to overflowing ; and beside each 
stood a many-colored pile. The table was heavy with its 
load of presents, — candies, toys, trinkets, books and other 



or. The Silver Skates 8i 

articles. Every one had gifts, from grandfather down to 
the baby. 

Little Katy clapped her hands with glee, and vowed inwardly 
that the cat should never know another moment’s grief. 

Hendrick capered about the room, flourishing a superb bow 
and arrows over his head. Hilda laughed with delight as she 
opened a crimson box, and drew forth its glittering contents. 
The rest chuckled, and said, “ Oh ! ” and “ Ah ! ” over their 
treasures, very much as we did here in America on last Christmas 
Day. 

With her glittering necklace in her hands, and a pile of 
books in her arms, Hilda stole towards her parents, and held up 
her beaming face for a kiss. There was such an earnest, ten- 
der look in her bright eyes that her mother breathed a blessing 
as she leaned over her. 

“I am delighted with this book: thank you, father!” she 
said, touching the top one with her chin. “ I shall read it all 
day long.” 

“ Ay, sweetheart,” said mynheer, “ you cannot do better. 
There is no one like Father Cats. If my daughter learns his 
‘ Moral Emblem ’ by heart, the mother and I may keep silent. 
The work you have there, the Emblems, is his best work. 
You will find it enriched with rare engravings from Van de 
Venne.” 

[Considering that the back of the book was turned away, 
mynheer certainly showed a surprising familiarity with an 
unopened volume presented by St. Nicholas. It was strange, 
too, that the saint should have found certain things made by 
the elder children, and have actually placed them upon the table, 
labelled with parents’ and grandparents’ names. But all were 
too much absorbed in happiness to notice slight inconsistencies. 

6 


82 


Hans Brinker 


Hilda saw on her father’s face the rapt expression he always 
wore when he spoke of Jacob Cats ; so she put her armful of 
books upon the table, and resigned herself to listen.] 

“ Old Father Cats, my child, was a great poet, not a writer 
of plays, like the Englishman Shakspeare, who lived in his time. 
I have read them in the German ; and very good they are, — 
very, very good, — but not like Father Cats’s. Cats sees no 
daggers in the air; he has no white women falling in love with 
dusky Moors, no young fools sighing to be a lady’s glove, no 
crazy princes mistaking respectable old gentlemen for rats. 
No, no ! He writes only sense. It is great wisdom in little 
bundles, — a bundle for every day of your life. You can guide 
a state with Cats’s poems ; and you can put a little baby to 
sleep with his pretty songs. He was one of the greatest men 
of Holland. When I take you to the Hague, I will show you 
the Kloosterkerk where he lies buried. There was a man for 
you to study, my sons ! He was good through and through. 
What did he say ? — 

“ ‘ O Lord ! let me obtain this from thee, 

To live with patience, and to die with pleasure.’ ^ 

“ Did patience mean folding his hands No, he was a 
lawyer, statesman, ambassador, farmer, philosopher, historian 
and poet. He was keeper of the Great Seal of Holland. He 
was a — Bah ! there is too much noise here ; I cannot talk.” 
And mynheer, looking with astonishment into the bowl of his 
meerschaum (for it had “ gone out ”), nodded to his vrouw^ and 
left the apartment in great haste. 

The fact is, his discourse had been accompanied throughout 

^ O Heere ! laat my dat van iiwen hand verwerven, 

Te leven met gedult, en met vermaak te sterven. 


or, The Silver Skates 


83 


with a subdued chorus of barking dogs, squeaking cats and 
bleating lambs, to say nothing of a noisy ivory cricket, that the 
baby was whirling with infinite delight. At the last, little 
Huygens, taking advantage of the increasing loudness of myn- 
heer’s tones, had ventured a blast on his new trumpet ; and 
Wolfert had hastily attempted an accompaniment on the drum. 
This had brought matters to a crisis ; and well for the little 
creatures that it had. The saint had left no ticket for them to 
attend a lecture on Jacob Cats. It was not an appointed part 
of the ceremonies. Therefore, when the youngsters saw that 
the mother looked neither frightened nor offended, they 
gathered new courage. The grand chorus rose triumphant ; 
and frolic and joy reigned supreme. 

Good St. Nicholas ! For the sake of the young Hollanders, 
I, for one, am willing to acknowledge him, and defend his 
reality against all unbelievers. 

Carl Schummel was quite busy during that day, assuring Hale 
children confidentially that not St. Nicholas, but their own 
fathers and mothers, had produced the oracle, and loaded the 
tables. But we know better than that. 

And yet, if this were a saint, why did he not visit the 
Brinker cottage that night ? Why was that one home, so 
dark and sorrowful, passed by ? 


84 


Hans Brinker 


X 


WHAT THE BOYS SAW AND DID IN AMSTERDAM 
RE we all here ? ” cried Peter, in high glee, as the party 



assembled upon the canal, early the next morning. 


equipped for their skating-journey. “ Let me see. As Jacob 
has made me captain, I must call the roll. Carl Schummel, 
you here ” 


“ Ya ! ” 

Jacob Foot ? ” 
Ya ! ” 


‘‘ Benjamin Dobbs ? ” 

‘‘ Ya-a ! ” 

‘‘ Lambert van Mounen .? ” 

“ Ya! ” 

‘‘ That ’s lucky I Couldn’t get on without you^ as you ’re 
the only one who can speak English. — Ludwig van Holp ? ” 

“ Ya ! ” 

‘‘ Voostenwalbert Schimmelpenninck ” 

No answer. 

Ah ! the little rogue has been kept at home. — Now, boys, 
it ’s just eight o’clock, glorious weather ; and the Y is as firm 
as a rock. We’ll be at Amsterdam in thirty minutes. One, 
two, thiee — START I ” 

True enough. In less than half an hour, they had crossed 
a dike of solid masonry, and were in the very heart of the great 


or, The Silver Skates 83 

metropolis of the Netherlands, — a walled city of ninety-five 
islands, and nearly two hundred bridges. Although Ben had 
been there twice since his arrival in Holland, he saw much to 



PETER CALLING THE ROLL. 


excite wonder ; but his Dutch comrades, having lived near by 
all their lives, considered it the most matter-of-course place in 
the world. Everything interested Ben, — the tall houses, with 
their forked chimneys, and gabled ends facing the street ; the 


86 


Hans Brinker 


merchants’ warerooms, perched high up under the roofs of 
their dwellings, with long arm-like cranes hoisting and lower- 
ing goods past the household windows ; the grand public build- 
ings, erected upon wooden 
piles driven deep into the 
marshy ground ; the narrow 
streets ; the canals every- 
where crossing the city j the 
bridges; the locks ; the vari- 
ous costumes ; and, strangest 
of all, shops and dwellings 
crouching close to the fronts 
of the churches, sending their 
long, disproportionate chim- 
neys far upward along the 
sacred walls. 

If he looked up, he saw 
tall, leaning houses, seeming 
to pierce the sky with their 
shining roofs ; if he looked 
down, there was the queer 
street, without crossing or 
curb, nothing to separate the 
cobble-stone pavement from 
the footpath of brick ; and, if he rested his eyes halfway, he 
saw complicated little mirrors (sp'ionnen) fastened upon the 
outside of nearly every window, so arranged that the inmates 
of the houses could observe all that was going on in the street, 
or inspect whoever might be knocking at the door, without 
being seen themselves. 

Sometimes a dog-cart, heaped with wooden-ware, passed him; 



LONG ARM-LIKE CRANES, HOISTING 
AND LOWERING GOODS. 



or, The Silver Skates 87 

then a donkey, bearing a pair of panniers filled with crockery 
or glass ; then a sled driven over the bare cobble-stones (the 
runners kept greased with a dripping oil rag, so that it might 
run easily) ; and then, perhaps, a showy but clumsy family 
carriage, drawn by the brownest of Flanders horses, swinging 
the whitest of snowy tails. 


A BRIDGE IN OLD AMSTERDAM. 


The city was in full festival array. Every shop was gor- 
geous in honor of St. Nicholas. Captain Peter was forced 
more than once to order his men away from the tempting show- 
windows, where everything that is, has been, or can be thought 
of in the way of toys, was displayed. Holland is famous for 
this branch of manufacture. Every possible thing is copied in 
miniature for the benefit of the little ones. The intricate 


88 


Hans Brinker 


mechanical toys that a Dutch youngster tumbles about in 
stolid unconcern would create a stir in our patent-office. Ben 
laughed outright at some of the mimic fishing-boats ; they 
were so heavy and stumpy, so like the queer craft that he had 
seen about Rotterdam. The tiny trekschuiten^ however, only 
a foot or two long, and fitted out complete, made his heart 
ache, he so longed to buy one at once for his little brother in 
England. He had no money to spare; for, with true Dutch 
prudence, the party had agreed to take with them merely the 
sum required for each boy’s expenses, and to consign the purse 
to Peter for safe keeping. Consequently, Master Ben con- 
cluded to devote all his energies to sightseeing, and to think 
as seldom as possible of little Robby. 

He made a hasty call at the marine school, and envied the 
sailor-students their full-rigged brig, and their sleeping berths 
swung over their trunks, or lockers. He hurried through pic- 
ture-galleries with the boys, and 
stared for full five minutes at the 
famous picture of “ The Round 
of the Night,” or, as many call it, 
“ The Night Watch,” by Rem- 
brandt, who spent many years of 
his life in Amsterdam. He peeped 
into the Jews’ quarter of the city, 
where the rich diamond-cutters 
and squalid old-clothesmen dwell, 
and wisely resolved to keep away 
from it. He also enjoyed hasty 
glimpses of the four principal ave- 
nues of Amsterdam, — the Prinsen 
Gracht, Keizers Gracht, Heeren 



SPIONNEN. 


or. The Silver Skates 


89 



THE DOGS TAKE A REST. 


Gracht and Singel. These are semicircular in form ; and the 
first three average more than two miles in length. A canal 
runs through the centre of each, with a well-paved road on 
either side, lined with stately buildings. Rows of naked elms, 
bordering the canal, cast a network of shadows over its frozen 
surface ; and everything was so clean and bright that Ben told 
Lambert it seemed to him like petrified neatness. 

Fortunately, the weather was cold enough to put a stop to 
the usual street-flooding and window-washing, or our young 
excursionists might have been drenched more than once. 
Sweeping, mopping and scrubbing form a passion with Dutch 
housewives ; and to soil their spotless mansions is considered 
scarcely less than a crime. Everywhere a hearty contempt is 
felt for those who neglect to rub the soles of their shoes to a 
polish before crossing the doorsill ; and, in certain places, visitors 
are expected to remove their heavy shoes before entering, and 
leave them outside near the doorstep. 

Sir William Temple, in his memoirs of ‘‘ What passed in 
Christendom from 1672 to 1679,” tells a story of a pompous 


90 


Hans Brinker 


magistrate going to visit a lady of Amsterdam. A stout Hol- 
land lass opened the door, and told him in a breath that the 
lady was at home, and that his shoes were not very clean. 



GREASING SLED-RUNNERS WITH AN OILED RAG. 


Without another word, she took the astonished man up by both 
arms, threw him across her back, carried him through two 
rooms, set him down at the bottom of the stairs, seized a pair 
of slippers that stood there, and put them upon his feet. Then, 
and not until then, she spoke, telling him that her mistress was 
on the floor above, and that he might go up. 

While Ben was skating with his friends upon the crowded 
canals of the city, he found it diflicult to believe that the 
sleepy Dutchmen he saw around him, smoking their pipes so 
leisurely, and looking as though their hats might be knocked 
off their heads without their making any resistance, were capa- 
ble of those outbreaks that had taken place in Holland ; that 
they were really fellow-countrymen of the brave, devoted 
heroes of whom he had read in Dutch history. 


or, The Silver Skates 


91 


As his party skimmed lightly along, he told Van Mounen 
of a burial-riot, which, in 1696, had occurred in that very city, 
where the women and children turned out as well as the men, 
and formed mock funeral-processions through the town, to 
show the burgomasters that certain new regulations, with 
regard to burying the dead, would not be acceded to ; how, at 
last, they grew so unmanageable, and threatened so much 
damage to the city, that the burgomasters were glad to recall 
the offensive law. 

‘‘ There ’s the corner,” said Jacob, pointing to some large 
buildings, “ where, about fifteen years ago, the great corn- 
houses sank down in the mud. They were strong affairs, and 
set up on good piles ; but they had over seventy thousand 
hundredweight of corn in them, and that was too much.” 

It was a long story for Jacob to tell, and he stopped to rest. 

“ How do you know there were seventy thousand hundred- 
weight in them?” asked Carl, sharply. ‘‘You were in your 
swaddling-clothes then.” 

“ My father knows all about it,” was Jacob’s suggestive 
reply. Rousing himself with an effort, he continued, “ Ben 
likes pictures : show him some.” 

“ All right,” said the captain. 

“ If we had time, Benjamin,” said Lambert van Mounen in 
English, “ I should like to take you to the City Hall, or Stadhuis. 
There are building-piles for you ! It is built on nearly fourteen 
thousand of them, driven seventy feet into the ground. But 
what I wish you to see there is the big picture of Van Speyk 
blowing up his ship — great picture.” 

“ Van who? ” asked Ben. 

“ Van Speyk. Don’t you remember ? He was in the 
Height of an engagement with the Belgians ; and when he 


92 


Hans Brinker 


found that they had the better of him and would capture his 
ship, he blew it up, and himself too, rather than yield to the 
enemy.’" 

“ Wasn’t that Van Tromp ? ” 

“ Oh, no ! Van Tromp was another braye fellow. They ’ve 
a monument to him down at Delftshayen, — the place where 
the Pilgrims took ship for America.” 

“ Well, what about Van Tromp? He was a great Dutch 
admiral, wasn’t he ? ” 

‘‘Yes; he was in more than thirty sea-fights. He beat the 
Spanish fleet and an English one, and then fastened a broom 
to his masthead to show that he had swept the English from 
the sea. Takes the Dutch to beat, my boy ! ” 

“ Hold up ! ” cried Ben. “ Broom or no broom, the Eng- 
lish conquered him at last. I remember all about it now. He 
was killed somewhere on the Dutch coast in an engagement in 
which the British fleet was yictorious. Too bad ! ” he added 
maliciously, “ wasn’t it ? ” 

“ Ahem ! where are we ? ” exclaimed Lambert, changing the 
subject. “ Halloo ! the others are way ahead of us — all but 
Jacob. Whew ! how fat he is ! He ’ll break down before we ’re 
half-way.” 

Ben, of course, enjoyed skating beside Lambert, who, though 
a stanch Hollander, had been educated near London, and could 
speak English as fluently as Dutch ; but he was not sorry 
when Captain yan Holt called out, — 

“ Skates off! There ’s the museum ! ” 

It was open ; and there was no charge on that day for ad- 
mission. In they went, shuffling, as boys will when they haye 
a chance, just to hear the sound of their shoes on the polished 
floor. 


or, The Silver Skates 


93 


This museum is, in fact, a picture-gallery, where some of 
the finest works of the Dutch masters are to be seen, besides 
nearly two hundred portfolios of rare engravings. 

Ben noticed at once that some of the pictures were hung on 
panels fastened to the wall with hinges. These could be swung 
forward, like a window-shutter, thus enabling the subject to be 
seen in the best light. The plan served them well in viewing 
a small group by Gerard Douw, called “ The Evening School : ” 
enabling them to observe its exquisite finish, and the wonderful 
way in which the picture seemed to be lit through its own 
windows. Peter pointed out the beauties of another picture by 
Douw, called ‘‘ The Hermit ; ” and he also told them some 
interesting anecdotes of the artist, who was born at Leyden, 
in 1613. 

“ Three days painting a broom-handle ! ” echoed Carl, in 
astonishment, while the captain was giving some instances of 
Douw’s extreme slowness of execution. 

“ Yes, sir, three days; and it is said that he spent five in 
finishing one hand in a lady’s portrait. You see how very 
bright and minute everything is in this picture. His unfinished 
works were kept carefully covered ; and his painting-materials 
were put away in air-tight boxes, as soon as he had finished 
using them for the day. According to all accounts, the studio 
itself must have been as close as a bandbox. The artist 
always entered it on tiptoe, besides sitting still, before he 
commenced work, until the slight dust caused by his en- 
trance had settled. I have read somewhere that his paintings 
are improved by being viewed through a magnifying-glass. 
He strained his eyes so badly with this extra finishing that 
he was forced to wear spectacles before he was thirty. At 
forty he could scarcely see to paint ; and he couldn’t find a 


94 


Hans Brinker 


pair of glasses anywhere that would help his sight. At last, 
a poor old German woman asked him to try hers. They 
suited him exactly, and enabled him to go on painting as well 
as ever.” 

“ Humph ! ” exclaimed Ludwig, indignantly. ‘‘ That was 
nice ! What did she do without them, I wonder ? ” 

“ Oh ! ” said Peter, laughing, likely she had another pair. 
At any rate, she insisted upon his taking them. He was so 
grateful that he painted a picture of the spectacles for her, 
case and all ; and she sold it to a burgomaster for a yearly 
allowance that made her comfortable for the rest of her days.” 

“ Boys,” called Lambert, in a loud whisper, “ come look at 
this bear-hunt ! ” 

It was a fine painting by Paul Potter, a Dutch artist of the 
seventeenth century, who produced excellent works before he 
was sixteen years old. The boys admired it, because the subject 
pleased them. They passed carelessly by the masterpieces of 
Rembrandt and Van der Heist, and went into raptures over an 
ugly picture by Van der Venne, representing a sea-fight be- 
tween the Dutch and English. They also stood spell-bound 
before a painting of two little urchins, one of whom was taking 
soup, and the other eating an egg. The principal merit in 
this work was that the young egg-eater had kindly slobbered 
his face with the yolk for their entertainment. 

An excellent representation of the “ Feast of St. Nicholas ” 
next had the honor of attracting them. 

“ Look, Van Mounen ! ” said Ben to Lambert. “ Could any- 
thing be better than this youngster’s face ? He looks as if he 
knows he deserves a whipping, but hopes St. Nicholas may not 
have found him out. That ’s the kind of painting I like, — 
something that tells a story.” 


or. The Silver Skates 


95 

‘‘ Come, boys ! ” cried the captain : “ ten o’clock, time we 
were ofF! ” 

They hastened to the canal. 

‘‘ Skates on ! Are you ready ? One, two — halloo ! where ’s 
Foot ? ” 

Surely enough, where was Foot ? 

A square opening had just been cut in the ice not ten yards 
off. Feter observed it, and without a word skated rapidly 
toward it. 

All the others followed, of course. 

Feter looked in. They all looked in ; then stared anxiously 
at each other. 

“ Foot ! ” screamed Feter, peering into the hole again. All 
was still. The black water gave no sign : it was already 
glazing on top. 

Van Mounen turned mysteriously to Ben. 

“ Didnt he have a fit once ? ” 

“ My goodness, yes ! ” answered Ben, in a great fright. 

“ Then, depend upon it, he ’s been taken with one in the 
museum ! ” 

The boys caught his meaning. Every skate was off in a 
twinkling. Feter had the presence of mind to scoop up a 
capful of water from the hole ; and off they scampered to the 
rescue. 

Alas ! they did, indeed, find poor Jacob in a fit — but it was 
a fit of sleepiness. There he lay in a recess of the gallery, 
snoring like a trooper. The chorus of laughter that followed 
this discovery brought an angry official to the spot. 

‘‘ What now ! None of this racket ! Here, you beer- 
barrel, wake up ! ” and Master Jacob received a very un- 
ceremonious shaking. 


Hans Brinker 


96 


As soon as Peter saw that Jacob’s condition was not serious, 
he hastened to the street to empty his unfortunate cap. While 

he was stuffing in his hand- 
kerchief to prevent the al- 
ready frozen crown from 
touching his head, the rest 
of the boys came down, 
dragging the bewildered and 
indignant Jacob in their 
midst. 

The order to start was 
again given. Master Foot 
was wide awake at last. 
The ice was a little rough 
and broken just there ; but 
every boy was in high 
spirits. 

“ Shall we go on by the 
canal, or the river ? ” asked Peter. ^ 

“ Oh, the river, by all means ! ” said Carl. It will be such 
fun. They say it is perfect skating all the way ; but it ’s 
much farther.” 

Jacob Foot instantly became interested. 

/ vote for the canal ! ” he cried. 

‘‘Well, the canal it shall be,” responded the captain, “ if all 
are agreed.” 

“ Agreed ! ” they echoed, in rather a disappointed tone ; and 
Captain Peter led the way. 

“ All right, come on. We can reach Haarlem in an hour.” 



WHERE WAS JACOB ? 


ON THE FROZEN ZUVdER ZEE. 


XI 

BIG MANIAS AND LITTLE ODDITIES 

W HILE skating along at full speed, they heard the cars 
from Amsterdam coming close behind them. 

“ Halloo ! ” cried Ludwig, glancing toward the rail-track, 
“ who can’t beat a locomotive Let ’s give it a race.” 

The whistle screamed at the very idea : so did the boys, and 
at it they went. 

Kor an instant the boys were ahead, hurrahing with all their 
might — only for an instant, but even that was something. 

This excitement over, they began to travel more leisurely, 
and indulge in conversation and frolic. Sometimes they 
stopped to exchange a word with the guards, who were sta- 
tioned at certain distances along the canal. These men, in 
winter, attend to keeping the surface free from obstruction and 


7 


98 


H ans Brinker 


garbage. After a snow-storm, they are 
expected to sweep the feathery covering 
away before it hardens into a marble, 
pretty to look at, but very unwelcome 
to skaters. Now and then the boys so 
far forgot their dignity as to clamber 
among the ice-bound canal-boats, crowd- 
ed together in a widened harbor olF the 
canal ; but the watchful guards would 
soon spy them out, and order them 
down with a growl. 

Nothing could be straighter than 
the canal upon which our party were 
skating, and nothing straighter than 
the long rows of willow-trees that 
stood, bare and wispy, along the bank. On the opposite side, 
lifted high above the surrounding country, lay the carriage- 
road on top of the great dike built to keep the Haarlem Lake 
within bounds. Stretching out far in the distance, until it 
became lost in a point, was the glassy canal with its many 
skaters, its brown-winged ice-boats, its push-chairs, and its 
queer little sleds, light as cork, flying over the ice by means 
of iron-pronged sticks in the hands of the riders. Ben was 
in ecstasy with the scene. 

Ludwig van Holp had been thinking how strange it was that 
the English boy should know so much of Holland. According 
to Lambert’s account, he knew more about it than the Dutch 
did. This did not quite please our young Hollander. Suddenly 
he thought of something that he believed would make the 
‘‘ Shon Pull ” open his eyes. He drew near Lambert 
with a triumphant, — 



or. The Silver Skates 


99 


“Tell him about the tulips ! ” 

Ben caught the word tulpen. 

“ Oh, yes ! ” said he, eagerly, in English. “ The tulip mania 
— are you speaking of that I have often heard it mentioned, 
but know very little about it. It reached its height in Amster- 
dam, didn’t it ” 

Ludwig moaned. The words were hard to understand ; but 
there was no mistaking the enlightened expression on Ben’s 
face. Lambert, happily, was quite unconscious of his young 
countryman’s distress as he replied, — 

“ Yes, here and in Haarlem, principally ; but the excitement 
ran high all over Holland, and in England, too, for that 
matter.” 

“ Hardly in England,^ I think,” said Ben ; “but I am not 
sure, as I was not 
there at the time.” 

“ Ha, ha ! that ’s 
true, unless you are 
over two hundred 
years old. Well, I 
tell you, sir, there 
was never anything 
like it before nor 
since. Why, per- 
sons were so crazy 
after tulip-bulbs in 
those days that they paid their weight in gold for them.” 

1 Although the tulip mania did not prevail in England as in Holland, 
the flower soon became an object of speculation, and brought very large 
prices. In 1636, tulips were publicly sold on the Exchange of London. 
Even as late as i8oo-, a common price was fifteen guineas for one bulb. 



THE TULIPS IN BLOOM. 


rOO 


Hans Brinker 


What, the weight of a man ? ” cried Ben, showing such 
astonishment in his eyes that Ludwig fairly capered. 

No, no ! the weight of a bulb. The first tulip was sent 
here from Constantinople, about the year 1560. It was so 
much admired that the rich people of Amsterdam sent to 
Turkey for more. From that time, they grew to be the rage; 
and it lasted for years. Single roots brought from one to four 
thousand florins ; and one bulb, the Semper Augustus, brought 
fifty-five hundred.” 

“ That ’s more than four hundred guineas of our money,” 
interposed Ben. 

‘‘ Yes, and I know I ’m right ; for I read it in a translation 
from Beckman, only day before yesterday. Well, sir, it was 
great. Every one speculated in tulips, even the bargemen and 

Ben did not know that, in his own day, a single tulip-plant, called* the 
“ Fanny Kemble,” had been sold in London for more than seventy 
guineas. 

Mr. Mackay, in his “ Memoirs of Popular Delusions,” tells a funny 
story of an English botanist who happened to see a tulip-bulb lying in the 
conservatory of a wealthy Dutchman. Ignorant of its value, he took out 
his penknife, and, cutting the bulb in two, became very much interested 
in his investigations. Suddenly the owner appeared, and, pouncing 
furiously upon him, asked him if he knew what he was doing. “ Peeling 
a most extraordinary onion,” replied the philosopher. “ Hundert tousant 
tuyvel ! ” shouted the Dutchman. “ It ’s an admiral van der eyk ! ” — 
“ Thank you,” replied the traveller. Immediately writing the name in his 

note-book. “Pray, are these very common in your country?” 

“ Death and the tuyvel ! ” screamed the Dutchman. “ Come before the 
Syndic, and you shall see.” In spite of his struggles, the poor investigator, 
followed by an indignant mob, was taken through the streets to a magis- 
trate. Soon he learned, to his dismay, that he had destroyed a bulb 
worth four thousand florins (sixteen hundred dollars). He was lodged in 
prison until securities could be procured for the payment of the sum. 


or, The Silver Skates loi 

rag-women and chimney-sweeps. The richest merchants were 
not ashamed to share the excitement. People bought bulbs, 
and sold them again at a tremendous profit, without ever see- 
ing them. It grew into a kind of gambling. Some became 
rich by it in a few days ; and some lost everything they had. 
Land, houses, cattle and even clothing, went for tulips, when 
people had no ready money. Ladies sold their jewels and 
finery to enable them to join in the fun. Nothing else was 
thought of. At last the States-General interfered. People be- 
gan to see what geese they were making of themselves ; and 
down went the price of tulips. Old tulip-debts couldn’t be 
collected. Creditors went to law : and the law turned its back 
upon them ; debts made in gambling were not binding, it said. 
Then there was a time ! — thousands of rich speculators re- 
duced to beggary in an hour. As old Beckman says, ‘ the 
bubble was burst at last.’ ” 

‘‘Yes; and a big bubble it was,” said Ben, who had 
listened with great interest. “ By the way, did you know that 
the name ‘tulip’ came from a Turkish word signifying 
t urban ? ” 

“ I had forgotten that,” answered Lambert ; “ but it ’s a 
capital idea. Just fancy a party of Turks, in full head-gear, 
squatted upon a lawn, — perfect tulip-bed ! Ha, ha ! capital 
idea ! ” 

[“ There,” groaned Ludwig to himself, “ he ’s been telling 
Lambert something wonderful about tulips : I knew it ! ”] 

“The fact is,” continued Lambert, “ you can conjure up 
quite a human picture out of a tulip-bed in bloom, especially 
when it is nodding and bobbing in the wind. Did you ever 
notice it ? ” 

“ Not 1. It strikes me. Van Mounen, that you Hollanders 
are prodigiously fond of the flower to this day.” 


T02 


Hans Brinker 


“Certainly. You can’t have a garden without them, — 
prettiest flower that grows, / think. My uncle has a magnifi- 
cent bed of the finest varieties at his summer-house on the 
other side of Amsterdam.” 

“ I thought your uncle lived in the city.” 

“ So he does ; but his summer-house, or pavilion, is a few 
miles olfi. He has another one built out over the river. We 
passed near it when we entered the city. Everybody in Am- 
sterdam has a pavilion somewhere, if he can.” 

“ Do they ever live there ? ” asked Ben. 

“ Bless you, no ! They are small affairs, suitable only to 
spend a few hours in on summer afternoons. There are some 
beautiful ones on the southern end of the Haarlem Lake : now 
that they ’ve commenced to drain it into polders, it will spoil 
that fun. By the way, we ’ve passed some red-roofed ones 
since we left home. You noticed them, I suppose, with their 
little bridges and ponds and gardens, and their mottoes over 
the doorway.” 

Ben nodded. 

“ They make but little show now,” continued Lambert ; 
“ but in warm weather they are delightful. After the willows 
sprout, uncle goes to his summer-house every afternoon. He 
dozes and smokes ; aunt knits, with her feet perched upon a 
foot-stove, never mind how hot the day ; my cousin Rika and 
the other girls fish in the lake from the windows, or chat with 
their friends rowing by ; and the youngsters tumble about, or 
hang upon the little bridges over the ditch. Then they have 
coffee and cakes, besides a great bunch of water-lilies on the 
table : it ’s very fine, I can tell you ; only (between ourselves), 
though I was born here, I shall never fancy the odor of stag- 
nant water that hangs about most of the summer-houses. 


or. The Silver Skates 


103 

Nearly every one you see is built over a ditch. Probably I 
teel it more, from having lived so long in England.” 

“ Perhaps I shall notice it too,” said Ben, “ if a thaw comes 
This early winter has covered up the fragrant waters for mj 



A SUMMER-HOUSE IN HOLLAND. 


benefit. Much obliged to it. Holland without this glorious 
skating wouldn’t be the same thing to me at all.” 

How very different you are from the Poots ! ” exclaimed 
Lambert, who had been listening in a sort of brown study ; 
“and yet you are cousins. I cannot understand it.” 

“We are cousins, or, rather, we have always considered 
ourselves such ; but the relationship is not very close. Our 
grandmothers were half-sisters. My side of the family is en- 


104 


Hans Brinker 


tirely English, while his is entirely Dutch. Old Great-grand* 
father Foot married twice, you see ; and I am a descendant of 
his English wife. I like Jacob, though, better than half of my 
English cousins put together. He is the truest-hearted, best- 
natured boy I ever knew. Strange as you may think it, my 
father became accidentally acquainted with Jacob’s father while 
on a business visit to Rotterdam. They soon talked over their 
relationship (in French, by the way) ; and they have corre- 
sponded in that language ever since. Queer things come 
about in this world. My sister Jenny would open her eyes at 
some of Aunt Foot’s wavs. Aunt is a thorough lady, but so 
different from mother ! And the house, too, and furniture, 
and way of living : everything is different.” 

Of course,” assented Lambert, complacently, as if to say, 
“You could scarcely expect such general perfection anywhere 
else than in Holland ; ” “ but you will have all the more to tell 
Jenny when vou go back.” 

“ Yes, indeed ! I can say one thing, — if cleanliness is, as 
they claim, next to godliness, Broek is safe. It is the cleanest 
place I ever saw in my life. Why, my aunt Foot, rich as she 
is, scrubs half the time and her house looks as if it were var- 
nished all over. I wrote to mother yesterday that I could see 
m.y double always with me, feet to feet, in the polished floor 
of the dining-room.” 

“Your double! That word puzzles me: what do you 
mean ? ” 

“Oh! my reflection, my apparition, — Ben Dobbs num- 
ber two.” 

“Ah, I see!” exclaimed Van Mounen. “ Haye you eyer 
been in your aunt Foot’s grand parlor ? ” 

Ben laughed. “ Only once ; and that was on the day of 


or, The Silver Skates 


105 

my arrival. Jacob says I shall have no chance of entering it 
again until the time of his sister Kenau’s wedding, — the week 
after Christmas. Father has consented that I shall remain to 
witness the great event. Every Saturday, Aunt Foot and her 
fat Kate go into that parlor, and sweep and polish and scrub ; 
then it is darkened, and closed until Saturday comes again : 
not a soul enters it in the mean time. But the schoomnaken^ as 
she calls it, must be done, just the same.” 

■‘^That is nothing. Every parlor in Broek meets with the 
same treatment,” said Lambert. “ What do you think of 
those moving figures in her neighbor’s garden ? ” 

“ Oh ! they ’re well enough. The swans must seem really 
alive, gliding about the pond in summer ; but that nodding 
mandarin in the corner, under the chestnut-trees, is ridiculous, 
only fit for children to laugh at. And then the stiff garden- 
patches, and the trees, all trimmed and painted ! Excuse me. 
Van Mounen ; but I shall never learn to admire Dutch 
taste.” 

‘‘ It will take time,” answered Lambert, condescendingly ; 
“ but you are sure to agree with it at last. I saw much to 
admire in England, and I hope I shall be sent back with you 
to study at Oxford ; but, take everything together, I like 
Holland better.” 

‘•‘Of course you do!” said Ben, in a tone of hearty ap- 
proval : “■ you wouldn’t be a good Hollander if you didn’t. 
Nothing like loving one’s country. It is strange, though, to 
have such a warm feeling for such a cold place. If we were 
not exercising all the time, we should freeze outright.” 

Lambert laughed. 

“That’s your English blood, Benjamin: Pm not cold. 
And look at the skaters here on the canal! they’re red as 


io6 


Hans Brinker 


roses, and happy as lords. — Halloo, good Captain van Holp! ” 
called out Lambert in Dutch : “ what say you to stopping at 
yonder farmhouse, and warming our toes ? ” 

“ Who is cold ? ” asked Peter, turning around. 

“ Benjamin Dobbs.” 

Benjamin Dobbs shall be warmed ; ” and the party was 
brought to a halt. 


or. The Silver Skates 


107 


XII 

ON THE WAY TO HAARLEM 

O N approaching the door of the farmhouse, the boys sud- 
denly found themselves in the midst of a lively domestic 
scene. A burly Dutchman came rushing out, closely followed 
by his dear vrouw ; and she was beating him smartly with a 
long-handled warming-pan. The expression on her face gave 
our boys so little promise of a kind reception that they pru- 
dently resolved to carry their toes elsewhere to be warmed. 

The next cottage proved to be more inviting. Its low roof 
of bright red tiles extended over the cow-stable, that, clean as 
could be, nestled close to the main building. A neat, peace- 
ful-looking old woman sat at one window, knitting. At the 
other could be discerned part of the profile of a fat figure, that, 
pipe in mouth, sat behind the shining little panes and snowy 
curtain. In answer to Peter’s subdued knock, a fair-haired, 
rosy-cheeked lass, in holiday attire, opened the upper half of 
the green door, and inquired their errand. The band over her 
right temple showed that she was unmarried. 

“May we enter and warm ourselves^ ju/vrouw F ” asked the 
captain, respectfully. 

“ Y es, and welcome,” was the reply, as the lower half of 
the door swung open. Every boy, before entering, rubbed 
long and faithfully upon the rough mat within ; and each 
made his best bow to the old lady and gentleman at the win- 


io8 


Hans Brinker 


dows. Ben was half inclined to think that these personages 
were automata, like the moving figures in the garden at Broek ; 
for they both nodded their heads slowly, in precisely the same 
way, and both went on with their employment as steadily and 
stiffly as though they worked by machinery. The old man 
puffed, puffed ; and his vrouw clicked her knitting-needles, as 
if regulated by internal cog-wheels. Even the real smoke 
issuing from the motionless pipe gave no convincing proof 
that they were human. 

But the rosy-cheeked maiden ! Ah, how she bustled about ! 
How she gave the boys polished, high-backed chairs to sit 
upon ! How she made the fire blaze up as if it were inspired ! 
How she made Jacob Foot almost weep for joy by bringing 
forth a great square of gingerbread, and a stone jug of sour 
wine ! How she laughed and nodded as the boys ate like 
wild animals on good behavior ! and how blank she looked 
when Ben politely but firmly refused to take any black-bread 
and sour-krout ! How she pulled off' Jacob’s mitten, which 
was torn at the thumb, and mended it before his eyes, biting 
off the thread with her white teeth, and saying, “ Now it will 
be warmer,” as she bit ! and, finally, how she shook hands 
with every boy in turn, and, throwing a deprecating glance at 
the female automaton, insisted upon filling their pockets with 
gingerbread ! 

All this time the knitting-needles clicked on, and the pipe 
never missed a puff. 

When the boys were fairly on their way again, they came in 
sight of Zwanenburg Castle, with its massive stone front, and 
its gateway towers, each surmounted with a sculptured swan. 

‘‘ Halfweg^ boys,” said Peter, “ off with your skates ! ” 

1 Half-way, 



“MAY WE ENTER AND WARM OURSELVES, JUFVROUW ? ” 





or. The Silver Skates 1 1 1 

“ Y ou see,” explained Lambert to his companion, the Y 
and the Haarlem Lake, meeting here, make it rather trouble- 
some. The river is five feet higher than the land ; so we 
must have everything strong in the way of dikes and sluice- 
gates, or there would be wet work at once. The sluice ar- 
rangements here are supposed to be something extra. We 
will walk over them, and you shall see enough to make you 
open your eyes. The spring water of the lake, they say, has 
the most wonderful bleaching powers of any in the world : all 
the great Haarlem bleacheries use it. I can’t say much upon 
that subject ; but I can tell you one thing from personal 
experience.” 

“ What is that ? ” 

“ Why, the lake is full of the biggest eels you ever saw. 
I ’ve caught them here, often — perfectly prodigious ! I tell 
you they ’re sometimes a match for a fellow : they ’d almost 
wriggle your arm from the socket, if you were not on your 
guard. But you ’re not interested in eels, I perceive. The 
castle ’s a big affair, isn’t it ? ” 

‘‘Yes. What do those swans mean? Anything?” asked 
Ben, looking up at the stone gate-towers. 

“ The swan is held almost in reverence by us Hollanders. 
These give the building its name, Zwanenburg, — swan-castle. 
That is all I know. This is a very important spot ; for it is 
here that the wise ones hold council with regard to dike mat- 
ters. The castle was once the residence of the celebrated 
Christiaan Briinings.” 

“ What about him ? ” asked Ben. 

“ Peter could answer you better than I,” said Lambert, “ if 
you could only understand each other ; or were not such 
cowards about leaving your mother-tongues. But I have often 


I 12 


Hans Brinker 


heard my grandfather speak of Briinings. He is never tired of 
telling us of the great engineer : how good he was, and how 
learned ; and how, when he died, the whole country seemed 
to mourn as for a friend. He belonged to a great many learned 
societies, and was at the head of the State Department, in- 
trusted with the care of the dikes, and other defences against 
the sea. There’s no counting the improvements he made in 
dikes and sluices and water-mills, and all that kind of thing. 
We Hollanders, you know, consider our great engineers as 
the highest of public benefactors. Briinings died years ago : 
they ’ve a monument to his memory in the cathedral of Haar- 
lem. I have seen his portrait ; and I tell you, Ben, he was 
right noble-looking. No wonder the castle looks so stiff and 
proud ! It is something to have given shelter to such a 
man ! ” 

“Yes, indeed!” said Ben. “I wonder. Van Mounen, 
whether you or I will ever give any old building a right to feel 
proud. Heigho I there ’s a great deal to be done yet in this 
world ; and some of us who are boys now will have to do it. 
Look to your shoe-latchet. Van ; it ’s unfastened.” 


or. The Silver Skates 


113 


XIII 

A CATASTROPHE 

I T was nearly one o’clock when Captain van Holt and his 
command entered the grand old city of Haarlem. They 
had skated nearly seventeen miles since morning, and were still 
as fresh as young eagles. From the youngest (Ludwig van 
Holp, who was just fourteen) to the eldest (no less a personage 
than the captain himself, a veteran of seventeen), there was but 
one opinion, — that this was the greatest frolic of their lives. 
To be sure, Jacob Foot had become rather short of breath 
during the last mile or two, and perhaps he felt ready for 
another nap ; but there was enough jollity in him yet for a 
dozen. Even Carl Schummel, who had become very intimate 
with Ludwig during the excursion, forgot to be ill-natured. 
As for Peter, he was the happiest of the happy ; his joyous 
song and merry whistle, as he skated along, had cheered many 
a passer-by that day. 

“ Come, boys, it ’s nearly tiffin ^-hour,” he said, as they neared 
a coffee-house on the main street. “We must have something 
more solid than the pretty maiden’s gingerbread ; ” and the 
captain plunged his hands into his pockets, as if to say, “ There ’s 
money enough here to feed an army ! ” 

“ Halloo ! ” cried Lambert. “ What ails the man ? ” 


^ Lunch. 


H ans Brinker 



Peter, pale and staring, was clapping his hands upon his 
breast and sides : he looked like one suddenly becoming 
deranged. 

‘‘ He ’s sick ! ” cried Ben. 

“No, he ’s lost something,” said Carl. 

Peter could only gasp, “ The pocket-book, with all our 

money in it — it ’s gone ! ” 
For an instant, all were 
too much startled to speak. 

Carl at last came out with 
a gruff — 

“ No sense in letting one 
fellow have all the money. 
I said so from the first. 
Look in your other pocket.” 
“ I did : it is n’t there.” 

“ Open your under jack- 
et.” 

Peter obeyed mechani- 
cally. He even took off 
his hat, and looked into it, 
then thrust his hand des- 
perately into every pocket. 
“ It ’s gone, boys,” he said 
gone!” last in a hopeless tone. 

“ No tiffin for us, nor dinner 
either. What is to be done.? We can’t get on without 
money. If we were in Amsterdam, I could get as much as 
we want ; but there is not a man in Haarlem from whom I 
can borrow a stiver. Don’t one of you know any one here 
who would lend us a few guilders ? ” 


or, The Silver Skates 


115 

Each boy looked into five blank faces. Then something 
like a smile passed around the circle ; but it got sadly knotted 
up when it reached Carl. 

“ That wouldn’t do,” he said crossly. I know some 
people here, rich ones too ; but father would flog me soundly 
if I borrowed a cent from any one. He has ‘ an honest 
MAN NEED NOT BORROW,’ written over the gateway of his 
summer-house.” 

‘‘ Humph ! ” responded Peter, not particularly admiring the 
sentiment just at that moment. 

The boys grew desperately hungry at once. 

“ It wash my fault,” said Jacob in a penitent tone to Ben. 
“ I say first, ‘ Fetter all de boys put zair pursh into Van Holt’s 
monish.’ ” 

‘‘ Nonsense, Jacob ! you did it all for the best.” 

Ben said this in such a sprightly tone that the two Van 
Holps and Carl felt sure he had proposed a plan that would 
relieve the party at once. 

What, what ? Tell us. Van Mounen,” they cried. 

“ He says it is not Jacob’s fault that the money is lost ; that 
he did it for the best, when he proposed that Van Holp should 
put all of our money into his purse.” 

Is that all ? ” said Ludwig, dismally. He need not have 
made such a fuss in just saying that. How much money 
have we lost ^ ” 

“Don’t you remember?” said Peter. “We each put in 
exactly ten guilders. The purse had sixty guilders in it. I am 
the stupidest fellow in the world. Little Schimmelpenninck 
would have made you a better captain. I could pommel myself 
for bringing such a disappointment upon you.” 

“ Do it, then ! ” growled Carl. “ Pooh ! ” he added, “ we all 


Hans Brmker 


1 16 

know it was an accident ; but that doesn’t help matters. W e 
must have money, Van Holp, even if you have to sell your 
wonderful watch.” 

“ Sell my mother’s birthday present ? Never 1 I will sell 
my coat, my hat — anything but my watch.” 

“ Come, come,” said Jacob, pleasantly : “ we are making too 
much of this affair. We can go home, and start again in a day 
or two.” 

You may be able to get another ten-guilder piece,” said 
Carl ; but the rest of us will not find it so easy. If we go 
home, we stay home, you may depend.” 

Our captain, whose good nature had not yet forsaken him for 
a moment, grew indignant. 

“ Do you think I will let you suffer for my carelessness ? ” 
he exclaimed. “ I have three times sixty guilders in my strong 
box at home ! ” 

“ Oh ! I beg your pardon,” said Carl, hastil}’-, adding, in a 
surlier tone, “ well, I see no better way than to go back 
hungry.” 

‘‘ I see a better plan than that,” said the captain. 

What is it \ ” cried all the boys. 

“ Why, to make the best of a bad business, and go back 
pleasantly, and like men,” said Peter, looking so gallant and 
handsome, as he turned his frank face and clear blue eyes upon 
them, that they caught his spirit. 

“ Ho, for the captain 1 ” they shouted. 

‘‘ Now, boys, we may as well make up our minds there ’s no 
place like Broek, after all; and that we mean to be there in 
two hours. Is that agreed to ” 

“ Agreed ! ” cried all, as they ran to the canal. 


or, The Silver Skates 117 

“ On with your skates ! Are you ready ? Here, Jacob, let 
me help you.” 

‘‘ Now. One, two, three, start ! ” 

And the boyish faces that left Haarlem at that signal were 
nearly as bright as those that had entered it with Captain Peter 
half an hour before. 


ii8 


Hans Brinker 


XIV 

HANS 

“ T^ONDER and Blixin ! ” cried Carl, angrily, before the 
party had skated twenty yards from the city gates, ‘‘ if 
here isn’t that wooden-skate ragamuffin in the patched leather 
breeches ! That fellow is everywhere, confound him ! We ’ll 
be lucky,” he added, in as sneering a tone as he dared to 
assume, “ if our captain doesn’t order us to halt and shake 
hands with him.” 

“Your captain is a terrible fellow,” said Peter, pleasantly. 
“ But this is a false alarm, Carl : I cannot spy your bugbear 
anywhere among the skaters. Ah, there he is ! Why, what 
is the matter with the lad ? ” 

Poor Hans ! His face was pale, his lips compressed. He 
skated like one under the effects of a fearful dream. Just as 
he was passing, Peter hailed him. 

“ Good-day, Hans Brinker ! ” 

Hans’s countenance brightened at once. “ Ah, mynheer ! 
is that you } It is well we meet ! ” 

“ Just like his impertinence ! ” hissed Carl Schummel, darting 
scornfully past his companions, who seemed inclined to linger 
with their captain. 

“I am glad to see you, Hans,” responded Peter, cheerily; 
“ but you look troubled. Can I serve you .? ” 

“ I have a trouble, mynheer,” answered Hans, casting down 
his eyes. Then, lifting them again with almost a happy ex- 


or. The Silver Skates 119 

pression, he added, “ But it is Hans who can help Mynheer van 
Holp this time/’ 

“ How ? ” asked Peter, making, in his blunt Dutch way, no 
attempt to conceal his surprise. 

‘‘ By giving you this^ mynheer ; ” and Hans held forth the 
missing purse. 

“ Hurrah ! ” shouted the boys, taking their cold hands from 
their pockets to wave them joyfully in the air. But Peter 
said, “ I thank you, Hans Brinker ! ” in a tone that made 
Hans feel as if the king had bowed to him. 

The shout of the delighted boys reached the muffled ears of 
the fine young gentleman, who, under a full pressure of pent-up 
wrath, was skating toward Amsterdam. A Yankee boy would 
have wheeled about at once, and hastened to. satisfy his curi- 
osity. But Carl only halted, and, with his back toward his 
party, wondered what on earth had happened. There he 
stood, immovable, until, feeling sure that nothing but the pros- 
pect of something to eat could have made them hurrah so 
heartily, he turned, and skated slowly toward his excited 
comrades. 

Meantime Peter had drawn Hans aside from the rest. 

‘‘ How did you know it was my purse ? ” he asked. 

“ You paid me three guilders yesterday, mynheer, for mak- 
ing the whitewood chain, telling me that I must buy skates.” 

“Yes, I remember.” 

“ I saw your purse then : it was of yellow leather.” 

“ And where did you find it to-day ? ” 

“ I left my home this morning, mynheer, in great trouble ; 
and, as I skated, I took no heed, until I stumbled against some 
lumber, and, while I was rubbing my knee, I saw your purse, 
nearly hidden under a log.” 


120 


H ans Brinker 



‘‘That place! Ah, I remember now; just as we were 
passing it, I pulled my tippet from my pocket, and probably 


‘‘I THANK YOU, HANS BRINKER ! ” 

flirted out the purse at the same time. It would have been 
gone but for you, Hans. Here,” pouring out the contents, 


or, The Silver Skates 


I2I 


‘‘ you must give us the pleasure of dividing the money 
with you.’’ 

“ No, mynheer,” answered Hans. He spoke quietly, with- 
out pretence or any grace of manner; but Peter, somehow, 
felt rebuked, and put the silver back without a word. 

“ I like that boy, rich or poor,” he thought to himself, then 
added aloud, May I ask about this trouble of yours, 
Hans ? ” 

“ Ah, mynheer ! it is a sad case. But I have waited here 
too long. I am going to Leyden to see the great Dr. 
Boekman.” 

‘‘ Dr. Boekman ! ” exclaimed Peter, in astonishment. 

‘‘Yes, mynheer; and I have not a moment to lose. 
Good-day ! ” 

“ Stay : I am going that way. — Come, my lads ! Shall 
we return to Haarlem ? ” 

“ Yes ! ” cried the boys, eagerly ; and off they started. 

“ Now,” said Peter, drawing near Hans, both skimming 
the ice so easily and lightly as they skated on together, that 
they seemed scarce conscious of moving, “ we are going to 
stop at Leyden ; and, if you are going there only with a mes- 
sage to Dr. Boekman, cannot I do the errand for you ? The 
boys may be too tired to skate so far to-day ; but I will prom- 
ise to see him early to-morrow, if he is to be found in the 
city.” 

“ Ah, mynheer ! that would be serving me indeed. It is 
not the distance I dread, but leaving my mother so long.” 

“ Is she ill ? ” 

“No, mynheer. It is the father. You may have heard 
it, — how he has been without wit for many a year, ever 
since the great Schlossen Mill was built; but his body has 


122 


Hans Brinker 


been well and strong. Last night the mother knelt upon the 
hearth to blow the peat (it is his only delight to sit and watch 
the live embers ; and she will blow them into a blaze every 
hour of the day, to please him). Before she could stir, he 
sprang upon her like a giant, and held her close to the fire, all 
the time laughing, and shaking his head. I was on the canal ; 
but I heard the mother scream, and ran to her. The father 
had never loosened his hold ; and her gown was smoking. I 
tried to deaden the fire ; but with one hand he pushed me olF. 
There was no water in the cottage, or I could have done bet- 
ter ; and all that time he laughed, such a terrible laugh, myn- 
heer ! hardly a sound, but all in his face. I tried to pull her 
away; but that only made it worse. /Then — it was dread- 
ful; but could I see the mother burn? — I beat him, — beat 
him with a stool. He tossed me away. The gown was on 
fire. I would put it out. I can’t remember well after that : 
I found myself upon the floor, and the mother was praying. 
It seemed to me that she was in a blaze ; and, all the while, I 
could hear that laugh. My sister Gretel screamed out that he 
was holding the mother close to the very coals : I could not 
tell ! Gretel flew to the closet, and filled a porringer with the 
food he liked, and put it upon the floor. Then, mynheer, he 
left the mother, and crawled to it like a little child. She was 
not burnt, only a part of her clothing. Ah, how kind she 
was to him all night ! watching and tending him. He slept in 
a high fever, with his hand pressed to his head. The mother 
says he has done that so much of late, as though he felt pain 
there. Ah, mynheer, I did not mean to tell you. If the 
father was himself, he would not harm even a kitten.” 

For a moment the two boys moved on in silence. 

“ It is terrible,” said Peter at last. ‘‘ How is he to-day ? ” 


or, The Silver Skates 


123 


‘‘ Very sick, mynheer.” 

Why go for Dr. Boekman, Hans ! There are others in 
Amsterdam who could help him, perhaps. Boekman is a 
famous man, sought only by the wealthiest ; and they often 
wait upon him in vain.” 

“He promised^ mynheer : he promised me yesterday to come 
to the father in a week. But, now that the change has come, 
we cannot wait — we think the poor father is dying. Oh, 
mynheer ! you can plead with him to come quick. He will 
not wait a whole week, and our father dying, the good meester 
is so kind.” 

“ So kind ! ” echoed Peter, in astonishment. “ Why, he is 
known as the crossest man in Holland ! ” 

“ He looks so because he has no fat, and his head is busy ; 
but his heart is kind, I know. Tell the meester what I have 
told you, mynheer, and he will come.” 

“ I hope so, Hans, with all my heart. You are in haste to 
turn homeward, I see. Promise me, that, should you need a 
friend, you will go to my mother, at Broek. Tell her I bade 
you see her. And, Hans Brinker, not as a reward, but as a 
gift, take a few of these guilders.” 

Hans shook his head resolutely. 

“ No, no, mynheer ! I cannot take it. If I could find work 
in Broek, or at the South Mill, I would be glad. But it is the 
same story everywhere, — ‘ Wait till spring.’ ” 

“ It is well you speak of it,” said Peter, eagerly ; “ for my 
father needs help at once. Your pretty chain pleased him 
much. He said, ‘ That boy has a clean cut : he would be 
good at carving.’ There is to be a carved portal to our new 
summer-house ; and father will pay well for the job.” 

“God is good!” cried Hans, in sudden delight. “Oh, 


124 


Hans Brinker 


mynheer, that would be too much joy ! I have never tried 
big work ; but I can do it, I know 1 can/’ 

“ Well, tell my father you are the Hans Brinker of whom 1 
spoke. He will be glad to serve you.” 

Hans stared in honest surprise. 

“ Thank you, mynheer ! ” 

“ Now, captain,” shouted Carl, anxious to appear as good- 
humored as possible, by way of atonement, “ here we are in 
the midst of Haarlem, and no word from you yet. We await 
your orders ; and we ’re as hungry as wolves.” 

Peter made a cheerful answer, and turned hurriedly to 
Hans. 

“ Come, get something to eat, and I will detain you no 
longer.” 

What a quick, wistful look Hans threw upon him ! Peter 
wondered that he had not noticed before that the poor boy was 
hungry. 

Ah, mynheer ! even now the mother may need me : the 
father may be worse. 1 must not wait. May God care for 
you ! ” And, nodding hastily, Hans turned his face home- 
ward, and was gone. 

‘‘ Come, boys,” sighed Peter, “ now for our tiffin / ” 


or. The Silver Skates 


125 


XV 

HOMES 

I T must not be supposed that our young Dutchmen had 
already forgotten the great skating-race which was to take 
place on the 20th. On the contrary, they had thought and 
spoken of it very often during the day. Even Ben, though he 
had felt more like a traveller than the rest, had never once, 
through all the sight-seeing, lost a certain vision of silver skates, 
which for a week past had haunted him night and day. 

Like a true “ John Bull,” as Jacob had called him, he never 
doubted that his English fleetness, English strength, English 
everything, could at any time enable him, on the ice, to put 
all Holland to shame, and the rest of the world too, for that 
matter. Ben certainly was a superb skater. He had en- 
joyed not half the opportunities for practising that had fallen 
to his new comrades ; but he had improved his share to the 
utmost ; and was, besides, so strong of frame, so supple of 
limb, in short, such a tight, trim, quick, graceful fellow in every 
way, that he had taken to skating as naturally as a chamois to 
leaping, or an eagle t-o soaring. 

Only to the heavy heart of poor Hans had the vision of the 
silver skates failed to appear during that starry winter night 
and the brighter sunlit day. 

Even Gretel had seen them flitting before her as she . sat 
beside her mother through those hours of weary watching, — 


126 


Hans Brinker 


not as prizes to be won, but as treasures passing hopelessly be- 
yond her reach. 

Rychie, Hilda and Katiinka — why, they had scarcely 
known any other thought than ‘‘ the race, the race ! It will 
come ofF on the 20th ! ’’ 

These three girls were friends. Though of nearly the same 
age, talent and station, they were as different as girls could be. 

Hilda van deck you already know, — a warm-hearted, 
noble girl of fourteen. Rychie Korbes was beautiful to look 
upon, far more sparkling and pretty than Hilda, but not half so 
bright and sunny within. Clouds of pride, of discontent and 
envy, had already gathered in her heart, and were growing 
bigger and darker every day. Of course, these often relieved 
themselves, very much after the manner of other clouds. But 
who saw the storms and the weeping ? Only her maid, or 
her father, mother and little brother, — those who loved her 
better than all. Like other clouds, too, hers often took queer 
shapes ; and what was really but mist and vapory fancy as- 
sumed the appearance of monster wrongs and mountains of 
difficulty. To her mind, the poor peasant-girl Gretel was not 
a human being, a God-created creature like herself : she was 
only something that meant “ poverty, rags and dirt.” Such as 
Gretel had no right to feel, to hope : above all, they should 
never cross the paths of their betters ; that is, not in a dis- 
agreeable way. They could toil and labor for them at a re- 
spectful distance, even admire them, if they would do it 
humbly, but nothing more. If they rebel, put them down ; if 
they suffer, don’t trouble me about it, was Rychie’s secret' 
motto. And yet how witty she was ! how tastefully she 
dressed ! how charmingly she sang ! how much feeling she 
displayed (for pet kittens and rabbits !) and how completely 


or. The Silver Skates 


127 


she could bewitch sensible, honest-minded lads like Lambert 
van Mounen and Ludwig van Holp ! 

Carl was too much like her, within, to be an earnest admirer ; ' 
and perhaps he suspected the clouds. He, being deep and surly, 
and always uncomfortably in earnest, of course preferred 
the lively Katrinka, whose nature was made of a hundred tink- 
ling bells. She was a coquette in her infancy, a coquette in 
her childhood, and now a coquette in her school-days. Without 
a thought of harm, she coquetted with her studies, her duties, 
even her little troubles. They shouldn’t know when they 
bothered her, not they. She coquetted with her mother, her 
pet lamb, her baby brother, even with her own golden curls, 
tossing them back as if she despised them. Every one liked 
her ; but who could love her ? She was never in earnest. A 
pleasant face, a pleasant heart, a pleasant manner, — these only 
satisfy for an hour. Poor, happy Katrinka ! Such as she tinkle, 
tinkle, so merrily through their early days. But life is so apt to 
coquet with them, in turn, to put all their sweet bells out of 
tune, or to silence them one by one ! 

How different were the homes of these three girls from the 
tumbling old cottage where Gretel dwelt ! Rychie lived in a 
beautiful house near Amsterdam, where the carved sideboards 
were laden with services of silver and gold, and where silken 
tapestries hung in folds from ceiling to floor. 

Hilda’s father owned the largest mansion in Broek. Its 
glittering roof of polished tiles, and its boarded front, painted 
in half a dozen various colors, were the admiration of the 
neighborhood. 

Katrinka’s home, not a mile distant, was the finest of Dutch 
country-seats. The garden was so stiffly laid out in little paths 
and patches that the birds might have mistaken it for a great 


128 


Hans Brinker 


Chinese puzzle, with all the pieces spread out ready for use. 
But in summer it was beautiful. The flowers made the best of 
their stiff quarters, and, when the gardener was not watching, 
glowed and bent and twined about each other in the prettiest 
way imaginable. Such a tulip-bed ! Why, the queen of the 
fairies would never care for a grander city in which to hold her 
court ! But Katrinka preferred the bed of pink-and-white 
hyacinths. She loved their freshness and fragrance, and the 
light-hearted way in which their bell-shaped blossoms swung 
in the breeze. 

Carl was both right and wrong when he said that Katrinka 
and Rychie were furious at the very idea of the peasant Gretel 
joining in the race. He had heard Rychie declare it was “ dis- 
graceful, shameful, too bad ! ” which in Dutch, as in English, 
is generally the strongest expression an indignant girl can use. 
And he had seen Katrinka nod her pretty head, and heard her 
sweetly echo, “ Shameful, too bad ! ” as nearly like Rychie as 
tinkling bells can be like the voice of real anger. That had 
satisfied him. He never suspected, that had Hilda, not 
Rychie, first talked with Katrinka upon the subject, the bells 
would have jingled as willing an echo. She would have said, 
“ Certainly, let her join us,” and would have skipped off, think- 
ing no more about it. But now Katrinka, with sweet emphasis, 
pronounced it a shame that a goose-girl, a forlorn little crea- 
ture like Gretel, should be allowed to spoil the race. 

Rychie, being rich and powerful (in a school-girl way), had 
other followers besides Katrinka, who were induced to share 
her opinions, because they were either too careless or too cow- 
ardly to think for themselves. 

Poor little Gretel ! Her home was sad and dark enough 
now. Raff Brinker lay moaning upon his rough bed ; and his 


or, The Silver Skates 


129 


vrouw^ forgetting and forgiving everything, bathed his fore- 
head, his lips, weeping, and praying that he might not die. 
Hans, as we know, had started in desperation for Leyden, to 
search for Dr. Boekman, and induce him, if possible, to come 
to their father at once. Gretel, filled with a strange dread, had 
done the work as well as she could, wiped the rough brick 
floor, brought peat to build up the slow fire, and melted ice for 
her mother’s use. This accomplished, she seated herself upon 
a low stool near the bed, and begged her mother to try and 
sleep a while. 

“ You are so tired ! ” she whispered. ‘‘ Not once have you 
closed your eyes since that dreadful hour last night. See, I 
have straightened the willow-bed in the corner, and spread 
everything soft upon it I could find, so that the mother might 
lie in comfort. Here is your jacket. Take off that pretty 
dress. I ’ll fold it away very carefully, and put it in the big 
chest before you go to sleep.” 

Dame Brinker shook her head, without turning her eyes 
from her husband’s face. 

“ I can watch, mother,” urged Gretel ; “ and I ’ll wake you 
every time the father stirs. You are so pale, and your eyes 
are so red ! O mother, do ! ” 

The child pleaded in vain. Dame Brinker would not leave 
her post. 

Gretel looked at her in troubled silence, wondering whether it 
were very wicked to care more for one parent than for the other, 
and sure, yes, quite sure, that she dreaded her father, while she 
clung to her mother with a love that was almost idolatry. 

“ Hans loves the father so well,” she thought, ‘‘ why cannot 
I ? Yet I could not help crying when I saw his hand bleed 
that day, last month, when he snatched the knife ; and now, 

9 


130 


Hans Brinker 


when he moans, how I ache, — ache all over! Perhaps I 
love him, after all, and God will see I am not such a bad, 
wicked girl as I thought. Yes, I love the poor father, almost 
as Hans does — not quite; for Hans is stronger, and does not 
fear him. Oh ! will that moaning go on forever and ever ? 
Poor mother, how patient she is ! She never pouts, as I do, 
about the money that went away so strangely. If he only 
could, just for one instant, open his eyes and look at us, as Hans 
does, and tell us where mother’s guilders went, I would not 
care for the rest. Yes, I would care ; I don’t want the poor 
father to die, to be all blue and cold, like Annie Bouman’s 
little sister — I know I don’t. Dear God, I don’t want father 
to die.” 

Her thoughts merged into a prayer. When it ended the 
poor child scarcely knew. Soon she found herself watching 
a little pulse of light at the side of the fire, beating faintly, but 
steadily, showing that somewhere in the dark pile there was 
warmth and light that would overspread it at last. A large 
earthen cup, filled with burning peat, stood near the bedside : 
Gretel had placed it there to “ stop the father’s shivering,” she 
said. She watched it as it sent a glow around the mother’s 
form, tipping her faded skirt with light, and shedding a sort of 
newness over the threadbare bodice. It was a relief to Gretel 
to see the lines in that weary face soften as the firelight flick- 
ered gently across it. 

Next she counted the window-panes, broken and patched 
as they were, and finally, after tracing every crack and seam 
in the walls, fixed her gaze upon a carved shelf made by Hans. 
The shelf hung as high as Gretel could reach. It held a 
large, leather-covered Bible, with brass clasps, — a wedding- 
present to Dame Brinker from the family at Heidelberg. 


or, The Silver Skates 


131 

“ Ah, how handy Hans is ! If he were here, he could turn 
the father some way so the moans would stop. Dear, dear ! if 
this sickness lasts, we shall never skate any more. I must send 
my new skates back to the beautiful lady. Hans and I will 
not see the race ; ” and Gretel’s eyes, that had been dry before, 
grew full of tears. 

‘‘Never cry, child,” said her mother, soothingly. “This * 
sickness may not be as bad as we think. The father has lain 
this way before.” 

Gretel sobbed now. 

“ O mother ! it is not that alone : you do not know all. I 
am very, very bad and wicked ! ” 

Gretel! — you so patient and good! ” and a bright, 
puzzled look beamed for an instant upon the child. “ Hush, 
lovey ! you ’ll wake him.” 

Gretel hid her face in her mother’s lap, and tried not to cry. 

Her little hand, so thin and brown, lay in the coarse palm 
of her mother, creased with many a hard day’s work. Rychie 
would have shuddered to touch either ; yet they pressed warmly 
upon each other. Soon Gretel looked up with that dull, homely 
look, which they say poor children in shanties are apt to have, 
and said in a trembling voice, — 

“ The father tried to burn you, he did : I saw him — and 
he was laughing f ” 

“ Hush, child ! ” 

The mother’s words came so suddenly and sharply that Raff 
Brinker, dead as he was to all that was passing round him, 
twitched slightly upon the bed. 

Gretel said no more, but plucked drearily at the jagged edge 
of a hole in her mother’s holiday gown. It had been burned 
there. Well for Dame Brinker that the gown was woollen. 


132 


Hans Brinker 


XVI 

HAARLEM — THE BOYS HEAR VOICES 

R efreshed and rested, our boys came forth from the 
coffee-house just as the big clock in the square, after 
the manner of certain Holland time-keepers, was striking two 
with its half-hour bell for half-past two. 

The captain was absorbed in thought, at first ; for Hans 
Drinker’s sad story still echoed in his ears. Not until Ludwig 
rebuked him with a laughing, Wake up, grandfather ! ” did he 
re-assume his position as gallant boy-leader of his band. 

“ Ahem ! This way, young gentlemen ! ” 

They were walking through the streets of the city, not on a 
curbed sidewalk (for such a thing is rarely to be found in 
Holland), but on the brick pavement that lay on the borders 
of the cobble-stone carriage-way without breaking its level 
expanse. 

Haarlem, like Amsterdam, was gayer than usual, in honor of 
St. Nicholas. 

A strange figure was approaching them. It was a small man, 
dressed in black, with a short cloak. He wore a wig and a 
cocked hat, from which a long, crape streamer was flying. 

“ Who comes here ” cried Ben. What a queer-looking 
object ! ” 

‘‘ That ’s the aanspreeker^^ said Lambert. “ Some one is 
dead.” 


or. The Silver Skates 


133 


“ Is that the way men dress in mourning in this country ? ” 

“ Oh, no ! The aanspreeker attends funerals j and it is his 
business, when any one dies, to notify all the friends and 
relatives.” 

“ What a strange custom ! ” 

W ell,” said Lambert, “ we needn’t feel very badly about 
this particular death ; for I see 
another man has lately been 
born to the world to fill up 
the vacant place.” 

Ben stared. ‘‘ How do you 
know that ? ” 

“ Don’t you see that pretty 
red pin-cushion hanging on 
yonder door ” asked Lambert, 
in return. 

‘‘ Yes.” 


“ Well, that ’s a boy.” 

“ A boy ! What do you 
mean ? ” 

‘‘I mean, that here in Haar- 
lem, whenever a boy is born, 
the parents have a red pin- 
cushion put out at the door. 

If our young friend had been 

a girl, instead of a boy, the ^he aanspreeker. 

cushion would have been white. 

In some places they have much more fanciful affairs, all 
trimmed with lace ; and, even among the very poorest houses, 
you will see a bit of ribbon, or even a string, tied on the 
door-latch.” 



134 


Hans Brinker 


“ Look [ ” almost screamed Ben. “ There is a white cushion 
at the door of that double-jointed house with the funny roof! ” 
“ I don’t see any house with a funny roof.” 

‘‘ Oh, of course not ! ” said Ben. ‘‘ I forget you ’re a native. 
But all the roofs are queer to me, for that matter. I mean the 

house next to that green 
building.” 

‘‘ T rue enough, there ’s 
a girl ! I tell you what, 
captain,” called out Lam- 
bert, slipping easily into 
Dutch, “ we must get 
out of this street as soon 
as possible. It ’s full of 
babies. They ’ll set up 
a squall in a moment.” 

The captain laughed. 
‘‘ I shall take you to hear 
better music than that,” 
he said. “ We are just 
in time to hear the or- 
gan of St. Bavon. The 
church is open to-day.” 

“ What, the great Haarlem organ } ” asked Ben. That 
will be a treat indeed. I have often read of it, with its tre- 
mendous pipes, and its Fox Huinana} that sounds like a giant 
singing.” 

“The same,” answered Lambert van Mounen. 

Peter was right. The church was open, though not for 
religious services. Some one was playing upon the organ. As 
^ An organ-stop which produces an effect resembling the human voice 



or, The Silver Skates 


135 


the boys entered, a swell of sound rushed forth to meet them. 
It seemed to bear them, one by one, into the shadows of the 
building. 

Louder and louder it grew, until it became like the din and 
roar of some mighty tempest, or like the ocean surging upon 
the shore. In the midst of the tumult, a tinkling bell was heard ; 
another answered, then another, and the storm paused as if to 
listen. The bells grew bolder : they rang out loud and clear. 
Other deep-toned bells joined in : they were tolling in solemn 
concert, — ding-dong, ding-dong! The storm broke forth 
again with redoubled fury, gathering its distant thunder. 
The boys looked at each other, but did not speak. It was 
growing serious. What was that ? Who screamed ? What 
screamed, — that terrible, musical scream? Was it man, or 
demon ? Or was it some monster, shut up behind that 
carved brass frame, behind those great silver columns, — 
some despairing monster, begging, screaming, for freedom ? 
It was the Vox Humana! 

At last an answer came, — soft, tender, loving, like a mother’s 
song. The storm grew silent. Hidden birds sprang forth, 
filling the air with glad, ecstatic music, rising higher and higher, 
until the last faint note was lost in the distance. 

The Vox Humana was stilled ; but, in the glorious hymn of 
thanksgiving that now arose, one could almost hear the throb- 
bing of a human heart. What did it mean ? That man’s 
imploring cry should in time be met with a deep content ? That 
gratitude would give us freedom ? To Peter and Ben, it seemed 
that the angels were singing. Their eyes grew dim, and their 
souls dizzy, with a strange joy. At last, as if borne upward 
by invisible hands, they were floating away on the music, all 
fatigue forgotten, and with no wish but to hear forever those 


136 


Hans Brinker 


beautiful sounds, when suddenly Van Help’s sleeve was pulled 
impatiently, and a gruff voice beside him asked, . — 

“How long are you going to stay here, captain, blinking at 
the ceiling like a sick rabbit ? It ’s high time we started.” 

“ Hush ! ” whispered Peter, only half aroused. 

“ Come, man, let ’s go,” said Carl, giving the sleeve a second 
pull. 

Peter turned reluctantly ; he would not detain the boys against 
their will. All but Ben were casting rather reproachful glances 
upon him. 

“ Well, boys,” he whispered, “ we will go. Softly, now.” 

“ That ’s the greatest thing I ’ve seen or heard since 1 ’ve 
been in Holland ! ” cried Ben, enthusiastically, as soon as they 
had reached the open air. “ It ’s glorious ! ” 

Ludwig and Carl laughed slyly at the English boy’s wartaal^ 
or gibberish ; Jacob yawned ; Peter gave Ben a look that made 
him instantly feel that he and Peter were not so very different, 
after all, though one hailed from Holland, and the other from 
England; and Lambert, the interpreter, responded with a 
brisk, — 

“You may well say so. I believe there are one or two 
organs nowadays that are said to be as fine ; but, for years 
and years, this organ of St. Bavon was the grandest in the 
world.” 

“ Do you know how large it is ? ” asked Ben. “ I noticed 
that the church itself was prodigiously high, and that the organ 
filled the end of the great aisle almost from flcor to roof.” 

“ That ’s true,” said Lambert ; “ and how superb the pipes 
looked, — just like grand columns of silver. They ’re only for 
show, you know: the real pipes are behind them, — some big 
enough for a man to crawl through, and some smaller than a 



IN THE CATHEDRAL. 







or, The Silver Skates 


139 


baby’s whistle. Well, sir, for size, the church is higher than 
Westminster Abbey, to begin with; and, as you say, the organ 
makes a tremendous show, even then. Father told me, last 
night, that it is one hundred and eight feet high, fifty feet broad, 
and has over five thousand pipes : it has sixty-four stops^ if you 
know what they are (/ don’t), and three key-boards.” 

Good for you ! ” said Ben. “ You have a fine memory. 
My head is a perfect colander for figures : they slip through as 
fast as they ’re poured in. But other facts, and historical events, 
stay behind : that ’s some consolation.” 

‘‘ There we differ,” returned Van Mounen. “ I ’m great on 
names and figures ; but history, take it altogether, seems to me 
to be the most hopeless kind of a jumble.” 

Meantime Carl and Ludwig were having a discussion con- 
cerning some square, wooden monuments they had observed in 
the interior of the church. Ludwig declared that each bore 
the name of the person buried beneath ; and Carl insisted that 
they had no names, but only the heraldic arms of the deceased, 
painted on a black ground, with the date of the death in gilt 
letters. * 

“ I ought to know,” said Carl ; “ for I walked across to the 
east side to look for the cannon-ball which mother told me was 
embedded-there. It was fired into the church, in the year fifteen 
hundred and something, by those rascally Spaniards, while the 
services were going on. There it was in the wall, sure enough ; 
and, while I was walking back, I noticed the monuments. I tell 
you they haven’t a sign of a name upon them.” 

“ Ask Peter,” said Ludwig, only half convinced. 

‘‘ Carl is right,” replied Peter, who, though> conversing with 
Jacob, had overheard their dispute. “ Well, Jacob, as I was 
saying, Handel, the great composer, chanced to visit Haarlem, 


140 


Hans Brinker 


and, of course, he at once hunted up this famous organ. He 
gained admittance, and was playing upon it with all his might, 
when the regular organist chanced to enter the building. The 
man stood awestruck. He was a good player himself ; but he 
had never heard such music before. ‘ Who is there ? ’ he cried. 
‘ If it is not an angel or the devil, it must be Handel ! ’ When 
he discovered that it was the great musician, he was still more 
mystified. ‘ But how is this ? ’ said he : ‘ you have done im- 
possible things. No ten fingers on earth can play the passages 
you have given : human hands couldn’t control all the keys 
and stops.’ — ‘ I know it,’ said Handel, coolly, ‘ and, for that 
reason, I was forced to strike some notes with the end of my 
nose.’ Donder ! just think how the old organist must have 
stared ! ” 

“ Hey ! What ? ” exclaimed Jacob, startled when Peter’s 
animated voice suddenly became silent. 

‘‘ Haven’t you heard me, you rascal ? ” was the indignant 
rejoinder. 

“ Oh, yes ! — no — the fact is — I heard you at first. I ’m 
awake now ; but I do believe I ’ve been walking beside you 
half asleep,” stammered Jacob, with such a doleful, bewildered 
look on his face that Peter could not help laughing. 


or. The Silver Skates 


141 


XVII 

THE MAN WITH FOUR HEADS 

A fter leaving the church, the boys stopped near by, in 
the open market-place, to look at the bronze statue of 
Laurens Janzoon Coster, who is believed by the Dutch to have 
been the inventor of printing. This is disputed by those who 
award the same honor to Johannes Guttenberg of Mayence ; 
while many maintain that Faustus, a servant of Coster, stole 
his master’s wooden types on a Christmas Eve, when the latter 
was at church, and fled with his booty and his secret to May- 
ence. Coster was a native of Haarlem ; and the Hollanders 
are naturally anxious to secure the credit of the invention for 
their illustrious townsman. Certain it is, that the first book he 
printed is kept by the city, in a silver case, wrapped in silk, and 
is shown with great caution as a most precious relic. It is 
said he first conceived the idea of printing, from cutting his 
name upon the bark of a tree, and afterward pressing a piece 
of paper upon the characters. 

Of course, Lambert and his English friend fully discussed 
this subject. They also had a rather warm argument concern- 
ing another invention. Lambert declared that the honor of 
giving both the telescope and microscope to the world lay be- 
tween Metius and Jansen, both Hollanders ; while Ben as 
stoutly insisted that Roger Bacon, an English monk of the 
thirteenth century, “ wrote out the whole thing, sir, — perfect 


142 


Hans Brinker 


descriptions of microscopes and telescopes too, — long before 
either of those other fellows were born/’ 

On one subject, however, they both agreed, — that the art of 
curing and pickling herrings was discovered by William Beukles 
of Holland, and that the country did perfectly right in honoring 
him as a national benefactor ; for its wealth and importance 
had been, in a great measure, due to its herring-trade. 

‘‘ It is astonishing,” said Ben, in what prodigious quantities 
those fish are found. I don’t know how it is here ; but on 
the coast of England, off Yarmouth, the herring-shoals have 
been known to be six and seven feet deep with fish.” 

“ That is prodigious, indeed,” said Lambert ; but you know 
your word ‘ herring ’ is derived from the German heer (‘ an 
army ’ ) on account of a way the fish have of coming in 
large numbers.” 

Soon afterward, while passing a cobbler’s shop, Ben ex- 
claimed, — 

“ Halloo, Lambert ! here is the name of one of your great- 
est men over a cobbler’s stall ! — Boerhaave. If it were only 
Herman Boerhaave, instead of Hendrick, it would be com- 
plete — ” 

Lambert knit his brows reflectively, as he replied, — 

“ Boerhaave, Boerhaave ! The name is perfectly familiar. 
I remember, too, he was born in 1668; but the rest is all 
gone, as usual. There have been so many famous Hollanders, 
you see, it is impossible for a fellow to know them all. What 
was he ? Did he have two heads ? or was he one of your 
great natural swimmers, like Marco Polo ? ” 

“He had /our heads,” answered Ben, laughing; “for he 
was a great physician, naturalist, botanist and chemist. I am 
full of him just now ; for I read his life a few weeks ago.” 


or, The Silver Skates 


143 

“ Pour out a little, then,” said Lambert. ‘‘ Only walk 
faster : we shall lose sight of the other boys.” 

“ Well,” resumed Ben, quickening his pace, and looking 
with great interest at everything going on in the crowded 
street. “ This Dr. Boerhaave was a great anspewker.^'' 

“ A great what F ” roared Lambert. 

“ Oh, I beg pardon ! I was thinking of that man over 
there, with the cocked hat. He ’s an anspewker^ isn’t he ? ” 

“Yes. He’s an aanspreeker^ if that is what you mean to 
say. But what about your friend with the four heads ? ” 

“ Well, as I was going to say, the doctor was left a penniless 
orphan at sixteen, without education or friends.” 

“Jolly beginning ! ” interposed Lambert. 

“ Now don’t interrupt. He was a poor friendless orphan 
at sixteen ; but he was so persevering and industrious, so de- 
termined to gain knowledge, that he made his way, and in 
time became one of the most learned men of Europe. All 
the — What is that ? ” 

“ Where ? What do you mean ? ” 

“ Why, that paper on the door opposite. Don’t you see ? 
Two or three persons are reading it. I have noticed several 
of these papers since I ’ve been here.” 

“ Oh ! that ’s only a health-bulletin. Somebody in the house 
is ill ; and, to prevent a steady knocking at the door, the family 
write an account of the patient’s condition on a placard, and 
hang it outside the door for the benefit of inquiring friends, — 
a very sensible custom, I ’m sure. Nothing strange about it 
that I can see. Go on, please. You said, ‘ All the,’ and there 
you left me hanging.” 

“ I was going to say,” resumed Ben, “ that all the — all 
the — How comically persons do dress here, to be sure ! 


144 


Hans Brinker 


Just look at those men and women with their sugar-loaf hats, 
and see this woman ahead of us with a straw bonnet like a 
scoop-shovel, tapering to a point in the back. Did you ever 
see anything so funny ? And those tremendous wooden shoes 
too. I declare she ’s a beauty ! ” 

“ Oh, they are only back-country folk ! ” said Lambert, 
rather impatiently. ‘‘ Y ou might as well let old Boerhaave 
drop, or else shut your eyes.’" 

“ Ha, ha ! Well, I was going to say, all the big men of his 
day sought out this great professor. Even Peter the Great, 
when he came over to Holland from Russia, to learn ship- 
building, attended his lectures regularly. By that time Boer- 
haave was professor of medicine and chemistry and botany in 
the University of Leyden. He had grown to be very wealthy 
as a practising physician ; but he used to say that the poor 
were his best patients, because God would be their paymaster. 
All Europe learned to love and honor him. In short, he be- 
came so famous that a certain mandarin of China addressed a 
letter to ‘ The illustrious Boerhaave, physician in Europe ; ’ 
and the letter found its way to him without any difficulty.” 

‘•‘My goodness ! That is what I call being a public charac- 
ter. I say ! Look at yonder couple in their pleasure-cart. It 
would look like an ancient chariot, if it only were set lower. 
Halloo ! The boys have stopped. How now. Captain van 
Holp, where next ? ” 

“We propose to move on,” said Van Holp: “there is 
nothing to see at this season in the Bosch. The Bosch is a 
noble wood, Benjamin, a grand park, where they have most 
magnificent trees protected by law. Do you understand ” 

“ Ya ! ” nodded Ben, as the captain proceeded, — 

“ Unless you all desire to visit the Museum of Natural 


or, The Silver Skates 


HS 


History, we may go on the grand canal again. If we had more 
time, it would be pleasant to take Benjamin up the Blue 
Stairs.” 

What are the Blue Stairs, Lambert ? ” asked Ben. 

“They are the highest point of the Dunes. You have a 
grand view of the ocean from there, besides a fine chance to 
see how wonderful these Dunes are. One can hardly believe 
that the wind could ever heap up sand in so remarkable a way. 
But we have to go through Bloemendal to get there, — not a 
very pretty village, and some distance from here. What do 
you say ? ” 

“ Oh ! I am ready for anything. For my part, I would 
rather steer direct for Leyden ; but we ’ll do as the captain 
says — hey, Jacob ? ” 

“Ya, dat ish goot,” said Jacob, who felt decidedly more 
like taking another nap than ascending the Blue Stairs. 

The captain was in favor of going to Leyden. 

“ It ’s four long miles from here. (Full sixteen of your 
English miles, Benjamin.) We have no time to lose, if you 
wish to reach there before midnight. Decide quickly, boys, — 
Blue Stairs, or Leyden ? ” 

“ Leyden,” they answered, and were out of Haarlem in a 
twinkling, admiring the lofty tower-like windmills and pretty 
country-seats as they left the city behind them. 

“ If you really wish to see Haarlem,” said Lambert to Ben, 
after they had skated a while in silence, “ you should visit it 
in summer. It is the greatest place in the world for beautiful 
flowers. The walks around the city are superb ; and the 
‘ Wood ’ with its miles of noble elms, all in full feather, is 
something to remember. You need not smile old fellow, at 
my saying ‘full feather’: I was thinking of waving plumes. 


146 


Hans Brlnker 


and got my words mixed up a little. But a Dutch elm beats 
everything : it is the noblest tree on earth, Ben — if you ex- 
cept the English oak.” 

“ Ay,” said Ben, solemnly, “ if you except the English 
oak.” And for some moments he could scarcely see the 
canal, because Robby and Jenny kept bobbing in the air be- 
fore his eyes. 


or. The Silver Skates 


H7 


XVIII 

FRIENDS IN NEED 

j% ^EANTIME the other boys were listening to Peter’s 
account of an incident which had long ago occurred^ 
in a part of the city where stood an ancient castle, whose lord 
had tyrannized over the burghers of the town to such an ex- 
tent that they surrounded his castle, and laid siege to it. Just 
at the last extremity, when the haughty lord felt that he could 
hold out no longer, and was preparing to sell his life as dearly 
as possible, his lady appeared on the ramparts, and offered to 
surrender everything, provided she was permitted to bring out, 
and retain, as much of her most precious household goods as 
she could carry upon her back. The promise was given ; and 
forth came the lady from the gateway, bearing her husband 
upon her shoulders. The burghers’ pledge preserved him 
from the fury of the troops, but left them free to wreak their 
vengeance upon the castle. 

“ Do you believe that story. Captain Peter ” asked Carl, in 
an incredulous tone. 

“ Of course I do : it is historical. Why should I doubt 
it ? ” 

“ Simply because no woman could do it ; and, if she could, 
she wouldn’t. That is my opinion.” 

“And / believe there are many who would; that is, to save 
any one they really cared for,” said Ludwig. 

1 Sir Thomas Carr’s Tour through Holland. 


148 


H ans Brinker 


Jacob, who, in spite of his fat and sleepiness, was of a 
rather sentimental turn, had listened with deep interest. 

“ That is right, little fellow,” he said, nodding his head ap- 
provingly. ‘‘ I believe every word of it. I shall never marry 
a woman who would not be glad to do as much for mer 

“ Heaven help her ! ” cried Carl, turning to gaze at the 
speaker. “Why, Foot, three men couXAn't do it ! ” 

“ Perhaps not,” said Jacob, quietly, feeling that he had 
asked rather too much of the future Mrs. Foot. “ But she 
must be willing j that is all.” 

“ Ay ! ” responded Peter’s cheery voice. “ Willing heart 
makes nimble foot ; and who knows but it may make strong 
arms also ? ” 

“ Pete,” asked Ludwig, changing the subject, “ did you tell 
me, last night, that the painter Wouvermans was born in 
Haarlem ? ” 

“Yes; and Jacob Ruysdael and Berghem too. I like 
Berghem, because he was always good-natured. They say he 
always sang while he painted ; and, though he died nearly two 
hundred years ago, there are traditions still afloat concerning 
his pleasant laugh. He was a great painter; and he had a 
wife as cross as Xantippe.” 

“ They balanced each other finely,” said Ludwig : “ he was 
kind, and she was cross. But, Peter, before I forget it, 
wasn’t that picture of St. Hubert and the Horse painted by 
Wouvermans? You remember father showed us an engrav- 
ing from it, last night.” 

“ Yes, indeed ! There is a story connected with that 
picture.” 

“ Tell us ! ” cried two or three, drawing closer to Peter as 
they skated on. 


or. The Silver Skates 


‘‘ Wouvermans,” began the captain, oratorically, was born 
in 1620, just four years before Berghem. He was a master 
of his art, and especially excelled in painting horses. Strange 
as it may seem, people were so long finding out his merits 
that, even after he had arrived at the height of his excellence, 
he was obliged to sell his pictures for very paltry prices. The 
poor artist became completely discouraged, and, worse than all, 
was over head and ears in debt. One day he was talking 
over his troubles with his father-confessor, who was one of the 
few who recognized his genius. The priest determined to 
assist him, and accordingly lent him six hundred guilders, ad- 
vising him, at the same time, to demand a better price for his 
pictures. Wouvermans did so, and in the meantime paid his 
debts. Matters brightened with him at once. Everybody 
appreciated the great artist who painted such costly pictures. 
He grew rich. The six hundred guilders were returned ; and, 
in gratitude, Wouvermans sent also a work which he had 
painted, representing his benefactor as St. Hubert kneeling be- 
fore his horse, — the very picture, Ludwig, of which we were 
speaking last night.” 

“ So, so ! ” exclaimed Ludwig, with deep interest, “ I must 
take another look at the engraving as soon as we get home.” 

At that same hour, while Ben was skating with his com- 
panions beside the Holland dike, Robby and Jenny stood in 
their pretty English schoolhouse, ready to join in the duties of 
their reading class. 

Commence, Master Robert Dobbs,” said the teacher. 
‘‘ Page 242 : now, sir, mind every stop.” 

And Robby, in a quick, childish voice, roared forth at 
school-room pitch : — 


150 


Hans Brinker 


“LESSON 62. THE HERO OF HAARLEM. 

“ Many years ago, there lived in Haarlem, one of the prin- 
cipal cities of Holland, a sunny-haired boy of gentle disposi- 
tion. His father was a sluicer ; that is, a man whose business 
it was to open and close the sluices, or large oaken gates that 
are placed at regular distances across the entrance of the 
canals to regulate the amount of water that shall flow 
into them. 

“ The sluicer raises the gates more or less, according to the 
quantity of water required, and closes them carefully at night, 
in order to avoid all possible danger of an over-supply running 
into the canal, or the water would soon overflow it, and inun- 
date the surrounding country. As a great portion of Holland 
is lower than the level of the sea, the waters are kept from 
flooding the land only by means of strong dikes, or barriers, 
and by means of these sluices, which are often strained to the 
utmost by the pressure of the rising tides. Even the little 
children in Holland know that constant watchfulness js re- 
quired to keep the rivers and ocean from overwhelming the 
country, and that a moment’s neglect of the sluicer’s duty may 
bring ruin and death to all.” 

[“Very good,” said the teacher. “Now, Susan.”] 

“ One lovely autumn afternoon, when the boy was about 
eight years old, he obtained his parents’ consent to carry some 
cakes to a blind man who lived out in the country, on the 
other side of the dike. The little fellow started on his errand 
with a light heart, and, having spent an hour with his grate- 
ful old friend, he bade him farewell, and started on his home- 
ward walk. 

“Trudging stoutly along by the canal, he noticed how the 


or. The Silver Skates 


151 

autumn rains had swollen the waters. Even while humming 
his careless, childish song, he thought of his father’s brave old 
gates, and felt glad of their strength ; for, thought he, ‘ if they 
gave way, where would father and mother be ? These pretty 
fields would be all 'covered with the angry waters. Father 
always calls them the angry waters : I suppose he thinks they 
are mad at him for keeping them out so long.’ And, with 
these thoughts just flitting across his brain, the little fellow 
stooped to pick the pretty blue flowers that grew along his 
way. Sometimes he stopped to throw some feathery seed-ball 
in the air, and watch it as it floated away; sometimes he 
listened to the stealthy rustling of a rabbit speeding through 
the grass : but oftener he smiled as he recalled the happy light 
he had seen arise on the weary, listening face of his blind 
old friend.” 

Now, Henry,” said the teacher, nodding to the next little 
reader.] 

“ Suddenly the boy looked around him in dismay. He had 
not noticed that the sun was setting : now he saw that his long 
shadow on the grass had vanished. It was growing dark. 
He was still some distance from home, and in a lonely ravine, 
where even the blue flowers had turned to gray. He quick- 
ened his footsteps, and, with a beating heart, recalled many a 
nursery tale of children belated in dreary forests. Just as he 
was bracing himself for a run, he was startled by the sound of 
trickling water. Whence did it come He looked up, and 
saw a small hole in the dike, through which a tiny stream was 
flowing. Any child in Holland will shudder at the thought of 
a leak in the dike. The boy understood the danger at a glance. 
That little hole, if the water were allowed to trickle through, 
would soon be a large one ; and a terrible inundation would be 
the result. 


152 


H ans Brinker 


“ Quick as a flash, he saw his duty. Throwing away his 
flowers, the boy clambered up the heights until he reached the 
hole. His chubby little finger was thrust in, almost before he 
knew it. The flowing was stopped ! ‘ Ah ! ’ he thought. 



A LEAK IN THE DIKE! “WILL NO ONE COME?” 


with a chuckle of boyish delight, ‘ the angry waters must stay 
back now ! Haarlem shall not be drowned while / am 
here ! ’ 

“ This was all very well at first ; hut the night was falling 


or, The Silver Skates 


I S3 


rapidly. Chill vapors filled the air. Our little hero began to 
tremble with cold and dread. He shouted loudly ; he screamed, 

‘ Come here, come here ! ’ but no one came. The cold grew 
more intense. A numbness, commencing in the tired little 
finger, crept over his hand and arm; and soon his whole 
body was filled with pain. He shouted again, ‘ Will no one 
come ? Mother, mother ! ’ Alas ! his mother, good, practi- 
cal soul, had already locked the doors, and had fully resolved 
to scold him on the morrow for spending the night with blind 
Jansen without her permission. He tried to whistle. Per- 
haps some straggling boy might heed the signal ; but his 
teeth chattered so, it was impossible. Then he called on 
God for help ; and the answer came through a holy resolution, 
— ^ I will stay here till morning.’ ” 

[“ Now, Jenny Dobbs,” said the teacher. Jenny’s 
eyes were glistening; but she took a long breath, and 
commenced.] 

“ The midnight moon looked down upon that small solitary 
form, sitting upon a stone, half-way up the dike. His head was 
bent, but he was not asleep ; for, every now and then, one 
restless hand rubbed feebly the outstretched arm that seemed 
fastened to the dike ; and often the pale, tearful face turned 
quickly at some real or fancied sound. 

“ How can we know the sufferings of that long and fearful 
watch ? — what falterings of purpose, what childish terrors, 
came over the boy as he thought of the warm little bed at 
home, of his parents, his brothers and sisters, then looked into 
the cold, dreary night ! If he drew away that tiny finger, the 
angry waters, grown angrier still, would rush forth, and never 
stop until they had swept over the town. No : he would hold 
it there till daylight — if he lived. He was not very sure of 


154 


Hans Brinker 


living. What did this strange buzzing mean ? and then the 
.'tnives, that seemed pricking and piercing him from head to 
foot ? He was not certain now that he could draw his finger 
away, even if he wished to. 

“ At daybreak a clergyman, returning from the bedside of a 
sick parishioner, thought he heard groans as he walked along 
on the top of the dike. Bending, he saw, far down on the side, 
a child, apparently writhing with pain. 

‘‘ ‘ In the name of wonder, boy,’ he exclaimed, ‘ what are you 
doing there ’ 

“ H am keeping the water from running out,’ was the 
simple answer of the little hero. ‘ Tell them to come 
quick.’ 

“ It is needless to add that they did come quickly, and 
that — ” 

Dobbs,” said the teacher, rather impatiently, “ if 
you cannot control your feelings so as to read distinctly, we 
will wait until you recover yourself.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Jenny, quite startled.] 

It was strange ; but, at that very moment, Ben, far over 
the sea, was saying to Lambert, — 

The noble little fellow ! I have frequently met with an 
account of the incident *, but I never knew till now that it was 
really true.” 

‘‘True! Of course it is,” said Lambert, kindling. “I 
have given you the story just as mother told it to me, years 
ago. Whv, there is not a child in Holland who does not 
know it. And, Ben, you may not think so ; but that little 
boy represents the spirit of the whole country. Not a leak 
can show itself anywhere, either in its politics, honor, or 


or. The Silver Skates 155 

public safety, that a million fingers are not ready to stop it, at 
any cost.” 

“ Whew ! ” cried Master Ben ; ‘‘ big talking that ! ” 

“ It ’s true talk, anyway,” rejoined Lambert, so very 
quietly that Ben wisely resolved to make no further 
comment. 


156 


Hans Brinker 


XIX 

ON THE CANAL 

HE skating season had commenced unusually early ; oui 
boys were by no means alone upon the ice. The after- 
noon was so line that men, women and children, bent upon 
enjoying the holiday, had flocked to the grand canal from far 
and near. St. Nicholas had evidently remembered the favorite 
pastime : shining new skates were everywhere to be seen. 
Whole families were skimming their way to Haarlem, or 
Leyden, or the neighboring villages. The ice seemed fairly 
alive. Ben noticed the erect, easy carriage of the women, and 
their picturesque variety of costume. There were the latest 
fashions, fresh from Paris, floating past dingy, moth-eaten gar- 
ments that had seen service through two generations ; coal- 
scuttle bonnets perched over freckled faces bright with holiday 
smiles ; stiff* muslin caps, with wings at the sides, flapping beside 
cheeks rosy with health and contentment ; furs, too, encircling 
the whitest of throats ; and scanty garments fluttering below 
faces ruddy with exercise : in short, every quaint and comical 
mixture of dry-goods and flesh that Holland could furnish 
seemed sent to enliven the scene. 

There were belles from Leyden, and fishwives from the 
border villages ; cheese-women from Gouda, and prim matrons 
from beautiful country-seats on the Haarlemmer Meer. 
Grey-headed skaters were constantly to be seen ; wrinkled old 


or, The Silver Skates 


157 


women with baskets upon their heads ; and plump little 
toddlers on skates, clutching at their mother’s gowns. Some 



women carried their babies 
upon their backs, firmly se- 
cured with a bright shawl. 

The effect was pretty and 
graceful as they darted by, 
or sailed slowly past, now 
nodding to an acquaintance, 
now chirruping, and throwing soft baby-talk, to the muffled 
little ones they carried. 

Boys and girls were chasing each other, and hiding behind 
the one-horse sleds that, loaded high with peat or timber, pur- 
sued their cautious way along the track marked out as “ safe.” 
Beautiful, queenly women were there, enjoyment sparkling in 
their quiet eyes. Sometimes a long file of young men, each 
grasping the coat of the one before him, flew by with electric 
speed ; and sometimes the ice squeaked under the chair of 


158 


Hans Brinker 


some gorgeous old dowager, or rich burgomaster’s lady, who, 
very red in the nose and sharp in the eyes, looked like a scare- 
thaw invented by old Father Winter for the protection of his 
skating grounds. The chair would be heavy with foot-stoves 
and cushions, to say nothing of the old lady. Mounted upon 
shining runners, it slid along, pushed by the sleepiest of 
servants, who, looking neither to the right nor the left, bent 
himself to his task, while she cast direful glances upon the 
screaming little rowdies who invariably acted as body-guard. 

As for the men, they were pictures of placid enjoyment. 
Some were attired in ordinary citizen’s dress ; but many looked 
odd enough with their short woollen coats, wide breeches and 
big silver buckles. These seemed to Ben like little boys, who 
had, by a miracle, sprung suddenly into manhood, and were 
forced to wear garments that their astonished mothers had 
altered in a hurry. He noticed, too, that nearly all the men 
had pipes, as they passed him, whizzing and smoking like so 
many locomotives. There was every variety of pipes, from 
those of common clay to the most expensive meerschaums 
mounted in silver and gold. Some were carved into extraordi- 
nary and fantastic shapes, representing birds, flowers, heads, 
bugs and dozens of other things ; some resembled the “ Dutch- 
man’s pipe,” that grows in our American woods; some were 
red, and many were of a pure, snowy white ; but the most 
respectable were those which were ripening into a shaded 
brown. The deeper and richer the brown, of course, the more 
honored the pipe ; for it was a proof that the owner, if 
honestly shading it, was deliberately devoting his manhood to 
the effort. What pipe would not be proud to be the object of 
such a sacrifice ! 

For a while, Ben skated on in silence. There was so much 


or, The Silver Skates 


159 


to engage his attention that he almost forgot his companions. 
Part of the time he had been watching the ice-boats as they 
flew over the great Haarlemmer Meer (or lake), the frozen 
surface of which was now plainly visible from the canal. 
These boats had very large sails, — much larger, in proportion, 
than those of ordinary vessels, — and were set upon a triangular 
frame, furnished with an iron “ runner ” at each corner ; the 
widest part of the triangle crossing the bow, and its point 
stretching beyond the stern. They had rudders for guiding, 
and brakes for arresting their progress ; and were of all sizes and 
kinds, from small, rough affairs, managed by a boy, to large 
and beautiful ones filled with gay pleasure-parties, and manned 
by competent sailors, who, smoking their stumpy pipes, reefed 
and tacked and steered with great solemnity and precision. 

Some of the boats were painted and gilded in gaudy style, 
and flaunted gay pennons from their mastheads ; others, white 
as snow, with every spotless sail rounded by the wind, looked 
like swans borne onward by a resistless current. It seemed to 
Ben, as, following his fancy, he watched one of these in the 
distance, that he could almost hear its helpless, terrified cry ; 
but he soon found that the sound arose from a nearer and less 
romantic cause, — from an ice-boat, not fifty yards from him, 
using its brakes to avoid a collision with a peat-sled. 

It was a rare thing for these boats to be upon the canal ; and 
their appearance generally caused no little excitement among 
skaters, especially among the timid : but to-day every ice-boat 
in the country seemed afloat, or, rather, aslide ; and the canal 
had its full share. 

Ben, though delighted at the sight, was often startled at the 
swift approach of the resistless, high-winged things, threatening 
to dart in any and every possible direction. It required all his 


i6o 


Hans Brinker 



BEN S MISHAP. 


bumped into an old lady’s lap. Her push-chair had come upon 
him from the rear. The old lady screamed ; the servant who 
was propelling her gave a warning hiss. In another instant 
Ben found himself apologizing to empty air : the indignant old 
lady was far ahead. 

This was a slight mishap compared with one that now 
threatened him. A huge ice-boat, under full sail, came tearing 


energies to keep out of the way of the passers-by, and to pre- 
vent those screaming little urchins from upsetting him with their 
sleds. Once he halted to watch some boys who were making 
a hole in the ice, preparatory to using their fishing-spears. Just 
as he concluded to start again, he found himself suddenly 


or. The Silver Skates 


i6i 


down the canal, almost paralyzing Ben with the thought of 
instant destruction. It was close upon him. He saw its gilded 
prow, heard the schtpper shout, felt the great boom fairly whiz 
over his head, was blind, deaf and dumb, all in an instant, then 
opened his eyes, to find himself spinning some yards behind its 
great skate-like rudder. It had passed within an inch of his 
shoulder ; but he was safe, — safe to see England again, — safe 
to kiss the dear faces that for an instant had flashed before him 
one by one, — father, mother, Robby and Jenny: that great 
boom had dashed their images into his very soul. He knew 
now how much he loved them. Perhaps this knowledge made 
him face complacently the scowls of those on the canal who 
seemed to feel that a boy in danger was necessarily a bad boy, 
needing instant reprimand. 

Lambert chided him roundly. 

“ I thought it was all over with you, you careless fellow ! 
Why don’t you look where you are going ? Not content with 
sitting on all the old ladies’ laps, you must make a Juggernaut 
of every ice-boat that comes along. We shall have to hand you 
over to the aanspreekers yet, if you don’t look out ! ” 

“ Please don’t,” said Ben, with mock humility ; then, seeing 
how pale Lambert’s lips were, added in a low tone, — 

“I do believe I thought more in that one moment. Van 
Mounen, than in all the rest of my past life.” 

There was no reply ; and, for a while, the two boys skated 
on in silence. 

Soon a faint sound of distant bells reached their ears. 

“ Hark ! ” said Ben. “ What is that ? ” 

‘‘ The carillons^" replied Lambert. They are trying the 
bells in the chapel of yonder village. Ah, Ben ! you should 
hear the chimes of the ‘New Church’ at Delft. They are 


i 62 


Hans Brinker 


superb, — nearly five hundred sweet-toned bells, and one of the 
best carilloneurs of Holland to play upon them. Hard work, 
though : they say the fellow often has to go to bed from posi- 
tive exhaustion, after his performances. You see, the bells are 
attached to a kind of key-board, something like they have on 
piano-fortes ; there are also a set of pedals for the feet. When 
a brisk tune is going on, the player looks like a kicking frog 
fastened to his seat with a skewer.” 

“ For shame ! ” said Ben, indignantly. 

Peter had, for the present, exhausted his stock of Haarlem 
anecdotes ; and now, having nothing to do but to skate, he and 
his three companions were hastening to “ catch up ” with 
Lambert and Ben. 

“ That English lad is fleet enough,” said Peter. “ If he 
were a born Hollander, he could do no better. Generally 
these John Bulls make but a sorry figure on skates. — Halloo ! 
Here you are. Van Mounen : why, we hardly hoped for the 
honor of meeting you again. Whom were you flying from in 
such haste ? ” 

“ Snails,” retorted Lambert. “ What kept you ? ” 

‘‘We have been talking; and, besides, we halted once to 
give Poot a chance to rest.” 

“He begins to look rather worn out,” said Lambert, in a 
low voice. 

Just then a beautiful ice-boat, with reefed sail and flying 
streamers, swept leisurely by. Its deck was filled with chil- 
dren muffled up to their chins. Looking at them from the ice, 
you could see only smiling little faces embedded in bright- 
colored woollen wrappings. They were singing a chorus in 
honor of St. Nicholas. The music, starting in the discord of 


or, The Silver Skates 



AN ICE-BOAT. 

a hundred childish voices, floated, as it rose, into exquisite 
harmony : — 

Friend of sailors and of children, 

Double claim have we, 

As, in youthful joy, we ’re sailing 
O’er a frozen sea. 

Nicholas, St. Nicholas, 

Let us sing to thee ! 

While through wintry air we’re rushing. 

As our voices blend. 

Are you near us ? Do you hear us, 

Nicholas, our friend ? 

Nicholas, St. Nicholas, 

Love can never end / 

“ Sunny sparkles, bright before us. 

Chase away the cold ; 

Hearts where sunny thoughts are welcome 
Never can grow old. 

Nicholas, St. Nicholas, 

Never can grow old ! 


164 


Hans Brinker 


“ Pretty gift and loving lesson, 

Festival and glee, 

Bid us thank thee as we ’re sailing 
O’er the frozen sea. 

Nicholas, St. Nicholas, 
So we sing to thee 


or. The Silver Skates 


165 


XX 

JACOB FOOT CHANGES THE PLAN 

T he last note died away in the distance. Our boys, who, 
in their vain efforts to keep up with the boat, had felt 
that they were skating backward, turned to look at one another. 
‘‘ How beautiful that was ! ” exclaimed Van Mounen. 

“Just like a dream ! ” said Ludwig. 

Jacob drew close to Ben, giving his usual approving nod as 
he spoke, — 

“ Dat ish goot. Dat ish te pest vay. / shay petter to take 
to Leyden mit a poat ! ” 

“ Take a boat ! ” exclaimed Ben, in dismay. “ Why, man, 
our plan was to not to be carried like little children.” 

“ Tuyfels ! ” retorted Jacob. “ Dat ish no little — no papies 
— to go for poat ! ” 

The boys laughed, but exchanged uneasy glances. It would 
be great fun to jump on an ice-boat, if they had a chance ; but 
to abandon so shamefully their grand undertaking — who could 
think of such a thing ? 

An animated discussion arose at once. 

Captain Peter brought his party to a halt. 

“ Boys,” said he, “ it strikes me that we should consult 
Jacob’s wishes in this matter. He started the excursion, you 
know.” 

“ Pooh ! ” sneered Carl, throwing a contemptuous glance at 
Jacob. “ Who ’s tired ? We can rest all night at Leyden.” 


i66 


Hans Brinker 


Ludwig and Lambert looked anxious and disappointed. It 
was no slight thing to lose the credit of having skated all the 
way from Broek to the Hague, and back again j but both 
agreed that Jacob should decide the question. 

Good-natured, tired Jacob ! He read the popular sentiment 
at a glance. 

“ Oh, no ! ” he said in Dutch. “ I was joking. We will 
skate, of course.” 

The boys gave a delighted shout, and started on again with 
renewed vigor. 

All but Jacob. He tried his best not to seem fatigued, and, 
by not saying a word, saved his breath and energy for the great 
business of skating. But in vain. Before long, the stout body 
grew heavier and heavier ; the tottering limbs, weaker and 
weaker. Worse than all, the blood, anxious to get as far as 
possible from the ice, mounted to the puffy, good-natured 
cheeks, and made the roots of his thin, yellow hair glow into 
a fiery red. 

This kind of work is apt to summon vertigo, of whom good 
Hans Andersen writes, — the same who hurls daring young 
hunters from the mountains, or spins them from the sharpest 
heights of the glaciers, or catches them as they tread the step- 
ping-stones of the mountain torrent. 

Vertigo came, unseen, to Jacob. After tormenting him a 
while, with one touch sending a chill from head to foot, wfith 
the next scorching every vein with fever, she made the canal 
rock and tremble beneath him, the white sails bow and spin as 
they passed, then cast him heavily upon the ice. 

“ Halloo ! ” cried Van Mounen. “ There goes Foot ! ” 

Ben sprang hastily forward. 

‘‘ Jacob, Jacob, are you hurt ” 


or. The Silver Skates 


167 

Peter and Carl were lifting him. The face was white 
enough now. It seemed like a dead face ; even the good- 
natured look was gone. 

A crowd collected. Peter unbuttoned the poor boy’s 
jacket, loosened his red tippet, and blew between the parted 
lips. 

“ Stand off, good people ! ” he cried. “ Give him air ! ” 
Lay him down,” called out a woman from the crowd. 

‘‘ Stand him upon his feet,” shouted another. 

‘‘ Give him wine,” growled a stout fellow who was driving 
a loaded sled. 

“ Yes, yes, give him wine ! ” echoed everybody. 

Ludwig and Lambert shouted in concert, — 

“ Wine, wine ! Who has wine ? ” 

A sleepy-eyed Dutchman began to fumble mysteriously 
under the heaviest of blue jackets, saying, as he did so, — 

‘‘Not so much noise, young masters; not so much noise ! 
The boy was a fool to faint off like a girl.” 

“ Wine, quick ! ” cried Peter, who, with Ben’s help, was 
rubbing Jacob from head to foot. 

Ludwig stretched forth his hand imploringly toward the 
Dutchman, who, with an air of great importance, was still 
fumbling beneath the jacket. 

“Z)(? hurry ! He will die ! Has any one else any wine ? ” 

“ He is dead ! ” said an awful voice from among the 
bystanders. 

This startled the Dutchman. 

“ Have a care ! ” he said, reluctantly drawing forth a small 
blue flask. “ This is schnapps. A little is enough.” 

A little was enough. The paleness gave way to a faint 
flush. Jacob opened his eyes, and, half bewildered, half 


i68 


Hans Brinker 


ashamed, feebly tried to free himself from those who were 
supporting him. 

There was no alternative, now, for our party, but to have 
their exhausted comrade carried in some way to Leyden. As 
for expecting him to skate any more that day, the thing was 
impossible. In truth, by this time each boy began to entertain 
secret yearnings towards ice-boats, and to avow a Spartan 
resolve not to desert Jacob. Fortunately a gentle, steady 
breeze was setting southward. If some accommodating 
schipper ^ would but come along, matters would not be quite 
so bad, after all. 

Peter hailed the first sail that appeared. The men in the 
stern would not even look at him. Three drays on runners 
came along ; but they were already loaded to the utmost. Then 
an ice-boat, a beautiful, tempting little one, whizzed past like 
an arrow. The boys had just time to stare eagerly at it, when 
it was gone. In despair, they resolved to prop up Jacob with 
their strong arms as well as they could, and take him to the 
nearest village. 

At that moment a very shabby ice-boat came in sight. With 
but little hope of success, Peter hailed it, at the same time 
taking off his hat, and flourishing it in the air. 

The sail was lowered ; then came the scraping sound of the 
brake ; and a pleasant voice called out from the deck, — 

“ What now ? ” 

“ Will you take us on ? ” cried Peter, hurrying with his 
companions as fast as he could ; for the boat was “ bringing 
to ” some distance ahead, — “ will you take us on } ’’ 

“We ’ll pay for the ride ! ” shouted Carl. 

1 Skipper, master of a small trading-vessel, a pleasure-boat, or ice-boat. 


or, The Silver Skates 


169 

The man on board scarcely noticed him, except to mutter 
something about it ’s not being a trekschuit. Still looking 
toward Peter, he asked, — 

“ How many ? ” 

Six.” 

‘‘ Well, it ’s Nicholas Day — up with you! Young gentle- 
man sick [nodding towards Jacob] ? ” 

“Yes, broken down — skated all the way from Broek,” 
answered Peter. “ Do you go to Leyden ? ” 

“ That ’s as the wind says. It ’s blowing that way now. 
Scramble up ! ” 

Poor Jacob ! if that willing Mrs. Poot had only appeared 
just then, her services would have been invaluable. It was as 
much as the boys could do to hoist him into the boat. All 
were in at last. The schipper^ puffing away at his pipe, let out 
the sail, lifted the brake, and sat in the stern with folded arms. 

“ Whew ! How fast we go ! ” cried Ben. “ This is some- 
thing like. — Feel better, Jacob ? ” 

“ Much petter, I tanks you.” 

“ Oh ! you ’ll be as good as new in ten minutes. This 
makes a fellow feel like a bird.” 

Jacob nodded, and blinked his eyes. 

“Don’t go to sleep, Jacob; it’s too cold. You might 
never wake up, you know. Persons often freeze to death in 
that way.” 

“ I no sleep,” said Jacob, confidently. And in two minutes 
he was snoring. 

Carl and Ludwig laughed. 

“We must wake him ! ” cried Ben. “ It is dangerous, I 
tell you. — Jacobi Ja-a-c — ” 

Captain Peter interfered ; for three of the boys were helping 
Ben for the fun of the thing. 


Hans Brinker 


170 

“ Nonsense ! Don’t shake him ! Let him alone, boys ! 
One never snores like that when one ’s freezing. Cover him 
up with something. Here, this cloak will do. — Hey, schipper? ” 
and he looked toward the stern for permission to use it. 

The man nodded. 

“ There,” said Peter, tenderly adjusting the garment : “ let 
him sleep. He will be frisky as a lamb when he wakes. How 
far are we from Leyden, schipper ? ” 

Not more ’n a couple of pipes,” replied a voice, rising from 
smoke, like the genii in fairy-tales (pulP, puff) ; “ likely, not 
more ’n one an’ a half” (pulf, puff), ‘Mf this wind holds” 
(puff, puff, puff). 

‘‘ What is the man saying, Lambert ? ” asked Ben, who was 
holding his mittened hands against his cheeks to ward off the 
cutting air. 

“ He says we ’re about two pipes from Leyden. Half the 
boors here on the canal measure distances by the time it takes 
them to finish a pipe.” 

‘‘ How ridiculous ! ” 

“ See here, Benjamin Dobbs,” retorted Lambert, growing 
unaccountably indignant at Ben’s quiet smile, — ‘‘ see here. 
You ’ve a way of calling every other thing you see on this side 
of the German Ocean ‘ ridiculous.’ It may suit you^ this 
word ; but it don’t suit me. When you want anything ridicu- 
lous, just remember your English custom of making the Lord- 
Mayor of London, at his installation, count the nails in a 
horseshoe to prove his learning.^' 

“ Who told you we had any such custom as that ? ” cried 
Ben, looking grave in an instant. 

Why, I know it : no use of any one telling me. It ’s in 
all the books ; and it ’s true. It strikes me,” continued Lam- 


or, The Silver Skates 


171 

bert, laughing in spite of himself, that you have been kept in 
happy ignorance of a good many ridiculous things on your side 
of the map.” 

Humph ! ” exclaimed Ben, trying not to smile. “ I ’ll in- 
quire into that lord-mayor business when I get home. There 
must be some mistake. B-r-r-roooo ! How fast we ’re 
going ! This is glorious ! ” 

It was a grand sail, or ride, I scarce know which to call it : 
perhaps “ fly ” would be the best word ; for the boys felt very 
much as Sindbad did, when, tied to the roc’s leg, he darted 
through the clouds ; or as Bellerophon felt when he shot through 
the air on the back of his winged horse, Pegasus. Sailing, 
riding or flying, whichever it was, everything was rushing past, 
backward ; and, before they had time to draw a long breath, 
Leyden itself, with its high-peaked roofs, flew' halfway to meei 
them. 

When the city came in sight, it was high time to waken the 
sleeper. That feat accomplished, Peter’s prophecy came to 
pass. Master Jacob was quite restored, and in excellent 
spirits. 

The schipper made a feeble remonstrance when Peter, with 
hearty thanks, endeavored to slip some silver-pieces into his 
tough, brown palm. 

Ye see, young master,” said he, drawing away his hand, 
the regular line o’ trade ’s one thing, and a favor ’s another.” 

I know it,” said Peter ; ‘‘ but those boys and girls of yours 
will want sweets when you get home. Buy them some in the 
name of St. Nicholas.” 

The man grinned. “ Ay, true enough ! I ’ve young uns 
in plenty, — a clean boat-load of them. You are a sharp 
young master at guessing.” 


172 


Hans Brinker 


This time the knotty hand hitched forward again, quite 
carelessly, it seemed ; but its palm was upward. Peter hastily 
dropped in the money, and moved away. 

The sail soon came tumbling down. Scrape, scrape, went 
the brake, scattering an ice-shower round the boat. 

“ Good-by, schipper ! ” shouted the boys, seizing their skates, 
and leaping from the deck, one by one. “ Many thanks to 
you ! ” 

‘‘ Good-by ! good-b — Hold ! here ! stop ! I want my 
coat.” 

Ben was carefully assisting his cousin over the side of the 
boat. 

“ What is the man shouting about ? Oh, I know ! You 
have his wrapper round your shoulders.” 

“ Dat ish true,” answered Jacob, half jumping, half tum- 
bling, down upon the framework : dat ish vot make him sho 
heavy.” 

“ Made you so heavy, you mean. Foot ? ” 

“ Ya, made you sho heavy : dat ish true,” said Jacob, inno- 
cently, as he worked himself free from the big wrapper. 
“ Dere, now you hands it mit him straightsway, and tells him 
I voz much tanks for dat.” 

“ Ho for an inn ! ” cried Peter, as they stepped into the 
city. ‘‘ Be brisk, my fine fellows ! ” 


or. The Silver Skates 


A 73 


XXI 


MYNHEER KLEEF AND HIS BILL OF FARE 
HE boys soon found an unpretending establishment near 



-I- the Breedstraat (Broad Street), with a funnily painted 
lion over the door. This was the Rood-Leeuw, or Red Lion, 
kept by one Huygens Kleef, a stout Dutchman with short legs 


and a very long pipe. 


By this time they were in a ravenous condition. The tiffin 
taken at Haarlem had served only to give them an appetite ; 
and this had been heightened by their exercise and swift sail 
upon the canal. 

“ Come, mine host, give us what you can ! ” cried Peter, 
rather pompously. 

“lean give you anything — everything,” answered Myn- 
heer Kleef, performing a difficult bow. 

“ Well, give us sausage and pudding.” 

“ Ah, mynheer ! the sausage is all gone. There is no 
pudding.” 

“ Salmagundi, then, and plenty of it.” 

“ That is out, also, young master.” 

“ Eggs ; and be quick.” 

“ Winter eggs are very poor eating,” answered the inn- 
keeper, puckering his lips, and lifting his eyebrows. 

“ No eggs ? Well — caviare.^' 

The Dutchman raised his fat hands. 


174 


Hans Brinker 


“ Caviare ! That is made of gold ! Who has caviare to 
sell ? ” 

Peter had sometimes eaten it at home. He knew that it 
was made of the roes of the sturgeon and certain other large 
fish ; but he had no idea of its cost. 

“ Well, mine host, what have you ? ’’ 

“ What have I Everything. I have rye-bread, sour-krout, 
potato-salad, and the fattest herring in Leyden.” 

“ What do you say, boys ” asked the captain. ‘‘ Will 
that do ? ” 

‘‘ Yes,” cried the famished youths, “ if he ’ll only be quick.” 

Mynheer moved off like one walking in his sleep, but soon 
opened his eyes wide at the miraculous manner in which his 
herring were made to disappear. Next came, or rather went, 
potato-salad, rye-bread and coffee, then Utrecht water flavored 
with orange, and, finally, slices of dry gingerbread. This last 
delicacy was not on the regular bill of fare ; but Mynheer 
Kleef, driven to extremes, solemnly produced it from his own 
private stores, and gave only a placid blink when his voracious 
young travellers started up, declaring they had eaten enough. • 

‘‘ I should think so ! ” he exclaimed internally ; but his 
smooth face gave no sign. 

Softly rubbing his hands, he asked, — 

‘‘Will your worships have beds ? ” 

“ Will your worships have beds ! ” mocked Carl. “ What 
do you mean ? Do we look sleepy ? ” 

“ Not at all, master. But I would cause them to be warmed 
and aired. None sleep under damp sheets at the Red Lion.” 

“ Ah, I understand. Shall we come back' here to sleep, 
captain ” 

Peter was accustomed to finer lodgings ; but this was a frolic. 


or, The Silver Skates 


175 


“ Why not ? ” he replied. “ We can fare excellently here.” 
Your worship speaks only the truth,” said mynheer, with 
great deference. 

“ How fine to be called ‘ Your Worship ! ’ ” laughed Ludwig 
aside to Lambert ; while Peter replied, — 

Well, mine host, you may get the rooms ready by nine.” 



‘‘WILL YOUR WORSHIPS HAVE BEDS?” 


“ I have one beautiful chamber, with three beds, that will 
hold all of your worships,” said Mynheer Kleef, coaxingly. 

“ That will do.” 

“ Whew ! ” whistled Carl, when they reached the street. 

Ludwig started. “ What now ” 

“Nothing; only Mynheer Kleef of the Red Lion little 
thinks how we shall make things spin in that same room 
to-night. We’ll set the bolsters flying!” 


176 


Hans Brinker 


“ Order ! ” cried the captain. “ Now, boys, I must seek 
this great Dr. Boekman before I sleep. If he is in Leyden, it 
will be no great task to find him ; for he always puts up at 
the Golden Eagle when he comes here. I wonder that you 
did not all go to bed at once. Still, as you are awake, what 
say you to walking with Ben up by the Museum or the 
StLhuis?” 

“ Agreed,” said Ludwig and Lambert ; but Jacob preferred 
to go with Peter. In vain Ben tried to persuade him to remain 
at the inn, and rest. He declared that he never felt “ petter,” 
and wished, of all things, to take a look at the city ; for it was 
his first “ stop mit Leyden.” 

‘‘ Oh, it will not harm him I ” said Lambert. “ How long 
the day has been ! and what glorious sport we have had ! It 
hardly seems possible that we left Broek only this morning.” 

Jacob yawned. 

“ I have enjoyed it well,” he said ; ‘‘ but it seems to me at 
least a week since we started.” 

Carl laughed, and muttered something about “ twenty naps.” 

“ Here we are at the corner. Remember, we all meet at the 
Red Lion at eight,” said the captain, as he and Jacob walked 
away. 


or. The Silver Skates 


177 


XXII 


THE RED LION 'BECOMES DANGEROUS 
HE boys were glad to find a blazing fire awaiting them 



A upon their return to the Red Lion. Carl and his party 
were there first. Soon afterward, Peter and Jacob came in. 
They had inquired in vain concerning Dr. Boekman. All 
they could ascertain was, that he had been seen in Haarlem 
that morning. 

“ As for his being in Leyden,” the landlord of the Golden 
Eagle had said to Peter, “ the thing is impossible. He always 
lodges here when in town. By this time, there would be a 
crowd at my door, waiting to consult him. Bah ! people make 
such fools of themselves ! ” 

“ He is called a great surgeon,” said Peter. 

‘‘ Yes, the greatest in Holland. But what of that ? What of 
being the greatest pill-choker and knife-slasher in the world 
The man is a bear. Only last month, on this very spot, he 
called me a pig before three customers ! ” 

“ No ! ” exclaimed Peter, trying to look surprised and 
indignant. 

“Yes, master, — a pig^'' repeated the landlord, puffing at his 
pipe with an injured air. “ Bah ! if he did not pay fine prices, 
and bring customers to my house, I would sooner see him in 
the V^leit Canal than give him lodgement.” 

Perhaps mine host felt that he was speaking too openly to 


178 


Hans Brinker 


a stranger ; or it may be he saw a smile lurking in Peter’s 
face, for he added sharply, — 

“ Come, now, what more do you wish ? Supper ? Beds ? ” 

“ No, mynheer. I am but searching for Dr. Boekman.” 

“ Go find him. He is not in Leyden.” 

Peter was not to be put oft-' so easily. After receiving a few 
more rough words, he succeeded in obtaining permission to 
leave a note for the famous surgeon ; or, rather, he bought from 
his amiable landlord the privilege of writing it there, and a 
promise that it should be promptly delivered when Dr. Boek- 
man arrived. This accomplished, Peter and Jacob returned 
to the Red Lion. 

This inn had once been a fine house, the home of a rich 
burgher ; but, having grown old and shabby, it had passed 
through many hands, until, finally, it had fallen into the pos- 
session of Mynheer Kleef. He was fond of saying, as he 
looked up at its dingy, broken walls, “ Mend it, and paint it, 
and there’s not a prettier house in Leyden.” It stood six 
stories high from the street. The first three were of equal 
breadth, but of various heights : the last three were in the 
great high roof, and grew smaller and smaller, like a set of 
double steps, until the top one was lost in a point. The roof 
was built of short, shining tiles ; and the windows, with their 
little panes, seemed to be scattered irregularly over the face of 
the building, without the slightest attention to outward elPect. 
But the public room on the ground-floor was the landlord’s joy 
and pride. He never said, “ Mend it, and paint it ” there ; 
for everything was in the highest condition of Dutch neatness 
and order. If you will but open your mind’s eye, you may 
look into the apartment. 

Imagine a large, bare room, with a floor that seemed to be 



AT THE RED LION INN 









or, The Silver Skates 


i8i 


made of squares cut out of glazed earthen pie-dishes, — first, 
a yellow piece, then a red, until the whole looked like a vast 
checker-board. Fancy a dozen high-backed wooden chairs 
standing around ; then a great hollow chimney-place, all aglow 
with its blazing fire, reflected a hundred times in the polished 
steel fire-dogs ; a tiled hearth, tiled sides, tiled top, with a Dutch 
sentence upon it ; and over all, high above one’s head, a nar- 
row mantel-shelf, filled with shining brass candlesticks, pipe- 
lighters and tinder-boxes. Then see, in one end of the room, 
three pine tables ; in the other, a closet and a deal dresser. 
The latter is filled with mugs, dishes, pipes, tankards, earthen 
and glass bottles ; and is guarded at one end by a brass-hooped 
keg, standing upon long legs. Everything dim with tobacco- 
smoke, but otherwise clean as soap and sand can make it. 
Next, picture two sleepy, shab by-looking men in wooden shoes, 
— one seated near the glowing fireplace, smoking a broken 
pipe, the other pacing the room restlessly ; Mynheer Kleef 
walking softly and heavily about, clad in leather knee-breeches, 
felt shoes, and a green jacket wider than it is long ; then throw 
a heap of skates in the corner, and put six tired, well-dressed 
boys, in various attitudes, upon the wooden chairs, — and you 
will see the coffee-room of the Red Lion just as it appeared at 
nine o’clock on the evening of December 6, 184—. For sup- 
per, gingerbread again, slices of Dutch sausage, rye-bread 
sprinkled with anise-seed, pickles, a bottle of Utrecht water, 
and a pot of very mysterious coffee. The boys were ravenous 
enough to take all they could get, and pronounce it excellent. 
Ben made wry faces ; but Jacob declared he had never eaten a 
better meal. After they had laughed and talked a while, and 
counted their money, by way of settling a discussion that arose 
concerning their expenses, the captain marched his company 


i 82 


Hans Brinker 


off to bed, led on by a greasy pioneer-boy, who carried skates 
and a candle-stick, instead of an axe. 

One of the ill-favored men by the fire had shuffled toward 
the dresser, and was ordering a rnug of beer, just as Ludwig, 
who brought up the rear, was stepping from the apartment. 

“ I don’t like that fellow’s eye,” he whispered to Carl. 
“ He looks like a pirate, or something of that kind.” 

Looks like a granny ! ” answered Carl, in sleepy disdain. 

Ludwig laughed uneasily. 

‘‘ Granny, or no granny,” he whispered, “ I tell you, he 
looks just like one of those men in the voetspoelen.^^ 

Pooh ! ” sneered Carl. I knew it. That picture was 
too much for you. Look sharp, now, and see if yon fellow 
with the candle doesn’t look like the other villain.” 

“ No ! indeed. His face is as honest as a Gouda cheese. 
But I say, Carl, that really was a horrid picture.” 

“ Humph ! What did you stare at it so long for? ” 

“ I couldn’t help it.” 

By this time, the boys had reached the “ beautiful room 
with three beds in it.” A dumpy little maiden, with long ear- 
rings, met them at the doorway, dropped them a courtesy, and 
passed, out. She carried a long-handled thing that resembled a 
frying-pan with a cover. 

‘‘ I am glad to see that,” said Van Mounen to Ben. 

“ What ?” 

‘‘Why, the warming-pan. It’s full of hot ashes. She’s 
been heating our beds.” 

“ Oh, a warming-pan, eh ! Much obliged to her, I ’rn 
sure,” said Ben, too sleepy to make any further comment. 

Meantime, Ludwig still talked of the picture that had made 
such a strong impression upon him. He had seen it in a shop- 


or. The Silver Skates 


183 

window during their walk. It was a poorly painted thing, 
representing two men, tied back to back, standing on ship- 
board, surrounded by a group of seamen, who were preparing 
to cast them together into the sea. This mode of putting 
prisoners to death was called voetspoelen^ or feet-washing, and 
.was practised by the Dutch upon the pirates of Dunkirk in 
1605, and again by the 
Spaniards upon the Dutch, 
in the horrible massacre 
that followed the siege of 
Haarlem. Bad as the 

A WARMING-PAN. 

painting was, the expres- 
sion upon the pirates’ faces was well given. Sullen and 
despairing as they seemed, they wore such a cruel, malignant 
aspect, that Ludwig had felt a secret satisfaction in contem- 
plating their helpless condition. He might have forgotten the 
scene by this time, but for that ill-looking man by the fire. 
Now while he capered about, boy-like, and threw himself with 
an antic into his bed, he inwardly hoped that the voetspoelen 
would not haunt his dreams. 

It was a cold, cheerless room. A fire had been newly 
kindled in the burnished stove, and seemed to shiver even 
while it was trying to burn. The windows, with their funny 
little panes, were bare and shiny ; and the cold, waxed floor 
looked like a sheet of yellow ice. Three rush-bottomed chairs 
stood stiffly against the wall, alternating with three narrow 
wooden bedsteads, that made the room look like the deserted 
ward of a hospital. At any other time the boys would have 
found it quite impossible to sleep in pairs, especially in such 
narrow quarters ; but to-night they lost all fear of being 
crowded, and longed only to lay their weary bodies upon the 



Hans Brinker 


184 

feather-beds that lay lightly upon each cot. Had the boys 
been in Germany, instead of Holland, they might have been 
covered, also, by a bed of down or feathers. This peculiar 
form of luxury was at that time adopted only by wealthy or 
eccentric Hollanders. 

Ludwig, as we have seen, had not quite lost his friskiness ; 
but the other boys, after one or two feeble attempts at pillow- 
firing, composed themselves for the night with the greatest 
dignity. Nothing like fatigue for making boys behave 
themselves. 

“ Good-night, boys ! ” said Peter’s voice from under the 
covers. 

“Good-night!” called back everybody but Jacob, who 
already lay snoring beside the captain. 

“ I say ! ” shouted Carl, after a moment, “ don’t sneeze, 
anybody. Ludwig ’s in a fright.” 

“ No such thing ! ” retorted Ludwig, in a smothered voice. 
Then there was a little whispered dispute, which was ended by 
Carl saying, — 

“ For my part, I don’t know what fear is ; but you really are 
a timid fellow, Ludwig.” 

Ludwig grunted sleepily, but made no further reply. 


It was the middle of the night. The fire had shivered itself 
to death ; and, in place of its gleams, little squares of moonlight 
lay upon the floor, slowly, slowly shifting their way across the 
room. Something else was moving also ; but they did not see 
it. Sleeping boys keep but a poor lookout. During the early 
hours of the night, Jacob Foot had been gradually but surely 
winding himself with all the bed-covers. He now lay like a 


or, The Silver Skates 


185 


monster chrysalis beside the half-frozen Peter, who, accordingly, 
was skating with all his might over the coldest, bleakest, of 
dreamland icebergs. 

Something else, I say, besides the moonlight, was moving 
across the bare, polished floor, — moving not quite so slowly, 
but quite as stealthily. 

Wake up, Ludwig ! The voetspoelen pirate is growing real. 

No. Ludwig does not waken ; but he moans in his sleep. 

Does not Carl hear it ? — Carl, the brave, the fearless. 

No. Carl is dreaming of the race. 

And Jacob Van Mounen ? Ben ? 

Not they. They, too, are dreaming of the race; and Ka- 
trinka is singing through their dreams, laughing, flitting past 
them. Now and then a wave from the great organ surges 
through their midst. 

Still the thing moves, slowly, slowly. 

Peter ! Captain Peter, there is danger ! 

Peter heard no call. But, in his dream, he slid a few thou- 
sand feet from one iceberg to another; and the shock awoke 
him. 

Whew ! How cold he was ! He gave a hopeless, desperate 
tug at the chrysalis. In vain : sheet, blanket and spread were 
firmly wound about Jacob’s inanimate form. Peter looked 
drowsily toward the window. 

“ Clear moonlight,” he thought ; “ we shall have pleasant 
weather to-morrow. Halloo ! What ’s that ? ” 

He saw the moving thing, or, rather, something black crouch- 
ing upon the floor ; for it had halted as Peter stirred. 

He watched in silence. 

Soon it moved again, nearer and nearer. It was a man 
crawling upon hands and feet. 


i86 


Hans Brinker 


The captain’s first impulse was to call out; but he took an 
instant to consider matters. 

I'he creeper had a shining knife in one hand. This was 
ugly ; but Peter was naturally self-possessed. When the head 



STILL THE THING MOVES, SLOWLY, SLOWLY. 

turned, Peter’s eyes were closed, as if in sleep ; but, at other 
times, nothing could be keener, sharper, than the captain’s 
gaze. 

Closer, closer, crept the robber. His back was very near 
Peter now. The knife was laid softly upon the floor. One 
careful arm reached forth stealthily to drag the clothes from the 
chair by the captain’s bed. The robbery was commenced. 
Now was Peter’s time. Holding his breath, he sprang up, 


or, The Silver Skates 


187 


and leaped with all his strength upon the robber’s back, stun- 
ning the rascal with the force of the blow. To seize the knife 
was but a second’s work. The robber began to struggle ; but 
Peter sat like a giant astride the prostrate form. 

‘‘ If you stir,” said the brave boy in as terrible a voice as he 
could command, stir but one inch, I will plunge this knife 
into your neck. Boys, boys ! Wake up ! ” he shouted, still 
pressing down the black head, and holding the knife at 
pricking distance. “ Give us a hand ! I ’ve got him ! I ’ve 
got him ! ” 

The chrysalis rolled over, but made no other sign. 

“ Up, boys ! ” cried Peter, never budging. Ludwig, Lam- 
bert ! Thunder ! Are you all dead ? ” 

Dead ! not they ! Van Mounen and Ben were on their feet 
in an instant. 

“ Hey ? What now ? ” they shouted. 

“ I ’ve got a robber here,” said Peter, coolly. “ Lie still, 
you scoundrel, or I ’ll slice your head off! — Now, boys, cut 
out your bed-cord. Plenty of time : he ’s a dead man if he 
stirs.” 

Peter felt that he weighed a thousand pounds. So he did, 
with that knife in his hand. The man growled and swore, 
but dared not move. 

Ludwig was up by this time. He had a great jack-knife, 
the pride of his heart, in his breeches’ pocket. It could do 
good service now. They bared the bedstead in a moment. 
It was laced backward and forward with a rope. 

I ’ll cut it,” cried Ludwig, sawing away at the knot. 
“ Hold him tight, Pete ! ” 

“ Never fear ! ” answered the captain, giving the robber a 
warning prick. 


i88 


Hans Brinker 


The boys were soon pulling at the rope like good fellows. 
It was out at last, — a long, stout piece. 

“ Now, boys,” commanded the captain, “ lift up his rascally 
arms ! Cross his hands over his back ! That ’s right — 
excuse me for being in the way — tie them tight ! ” 

‘‘ Yes, and his feet too, the villain ! ” cried the boys in great 
excitement, tying knot after knot with Herculean jerks. 

The prisoner changed his tone. 

“ Oh — oh ! ” he moaned, “ spare a poor sick man. I was 
but walking in my sleep.” 

‘‘ Ugh ! ” grunted Lambert, still tugging away at the rope. 
“ Asleep, were you Well, we ’ll wake you up.” 

The man muttered fierce oaths between his teeth, then cried 
in a piteous voice, “ Unbind me, good young masters ! I have 
five little children at home. By St. Bavon I swear to give you 
each a ten-guilder piece, if you will but free me ! ” 

Ha, ha ! ” laughed Peter. 

“ Ha, ha ! ” laughed the other boys. 

Then came threats, — threats that made Ludwig fairly 
shudder, though he continued to bind and tie with redoubled 
energy. 

Hold up. Mynheer house-breaker ! ” said Van Mounen, in 
a warning voice. “ That knife is verv near your throat. If 
you make the captain nervous, there is no telling what may 
happen.” 

The robber took the hint, and fell into a sullen silence. 

Just at this moment the chrysalis upon the bed stirred, and 
sat erect. 

What ’s the matter ” he asked, without opening his 
eyes. 

“ Matter ! ” echoed Ludwig, half trembling, half laughing. 


or, The Silver Skates 


1 89 


‘‘ Get up, Jacob ! Here ’s work for you. Come sit on this 
fellow’s back while we get into our clothes : we ’re half 
perished.” 

What fellow ? Donder ! ” 

“ Hurrah for Foot ! ” cried all the boys, as Jacob, sliding 
quickly to the floor, bedclothes and all, took in the state of 
affairs at a glance, and sat heavily 
beside Peter on the robber’s back. 

Oh, didn’t the fellow groan then ! 

“ No use in holding him down any 
longer, boys,” said Peter, rising, but 
bending, as he did so, to draw a pistol 
from his man’s belt. “You see, 

I ’ve been keeping guard over this 
pretty little weapon for the last ten 
minutes. It ’s cocked, and the least 
wriggle might have set it off. No 
danger now. I must dress myself. 

You and I, Lambert, will go for 
the police. I ’d no idea it was so cold.” 

“ Where is Carl ? ” asked one of the boys. 

They looked at one another. Carl certainly was not among 
them. 

“ Oh ! ” cried Ludwig, frightened at last, “ where is he ? 
Perhaps he ’s had a fight with the robber, and got killed.” 

“ Not a bit of it,” said Peter, quietly, as he buttoned his 
stout jacket. “ Look under the beds.” 

They did so. Carl was not there. 

Just then they heard a commotion on the stairway. Ben 
hastened to open the door. The landlord almost tumbled in : 
he was armed with a big blunderbuss. Two or three lodgers 



AT THIS MOMENT THE 
CHRYSALIS SAT ERECT. 


190 


Hans Brinker 


followed ; then the daughter, with ar. upraised frying-pan in 
one hand, and a candle in the other ; and behind her, looking 
pale and frightened, the gallant Carl. 

“ There ’s your man, mine host,” said Peter, nodding toward 
the prisoner. 

Mine host raised his blunderbuss ; the girl screamed ; and 
Jacob, more nimble than usual, rolled quickly from the robber’s 
• back. 

“ Don’t fire ! ” cried Peter : he is tied, hand and foot. 
Let ’s roll him over, and see what he looks like.” 

Carl stepped briskly forward, with a blustering, “Yes. 
IVe'^ll turn him over in a way he won’t like. Lucky we ’ve 
caught him ! ” 

“ Ha, ha ! ” laughed Ludwig : “ where were you. Master 
Carl \ ” 

“ Where was I ? ” retorted Carl, angrily. “ Why, I went 
to give the alarm, to be sure.” 

All the boys exchanged glances ; but they were too happy 
and elated to say anything ill-natured. Carl certainly was bold 
enough now. He took the lead, while three others aided him 
in turning the helpless man. 

While the robber lav, face up, scowling and muttering, 
Ludwig took the candlestick from the girl’s hand. 

“ I must have a good look at the beauty,” he said, drawing 
closer ; but the words were no sooner spoken than he turned 
pale, and started so violently that he almost dropped the candle. 

“ The voetspoelen ! ” he cried. “ Why, boys, it ’s the man 
who sat by the fire ! ” 

“ Of course it is,” answered Peter. “ We counted our 
money before him like simpletons. But what have we to do 
with voetspoelen^ Brother Ludwig I A month in jail is punish- 
ment enough.” 





rHERE S YOUR MAN, MINE HOST. 






or. The Silver Skates 


193 


The landlord’s daughter had left the room. She now ran 
in, holding up a pair of huge wooden shoes. “ See, father ! ” 
she cried, “ here are his great ugly boots. It ’s the man that 
we put in the next room after the young masters went to bed. 
Ah ! it was wrong to send the poor young gentlemen up 
here so far out of sight and sound.” 

“ The scoundrel ! ” hissed the landlord. ‘‘ He has disgraced 
my house. I go for the police at once.” 

In less than fifteen minutes, two drowsy-looking officers were 
in the room. After telling Mynheer Kleef that he must appear 
early in the morning, with the boys, and make his complaint 
before a magistrate, they marched off with their prisoner. 

One would think the captain and his band could have slept 
no more that night ; but the mooring has not yet been found 
that can prevent youth and an easy conscience from drifting 
down the river of dreams. The boys were too much fatigued 
to let so slight a thing as capturing a robber bind them to 
wakefulness. They were soon in bed again, floating away to 
strange scenes made of familiar things. Ben dreamed that he 
was entering a city of windmills. Ludwig and Carl had spread 
their bedding upon the floor. One had already forgotten the 
voetspoelen^ the race, everything ; but Carl was wide awake. 
He heard the carillons ringing out their solemn nightly music, 
and the watchman’s noisy clapper putting in discord at the 
quarter hours ; he saw the moonshine glide away from the 
window, and the red morning light come pouring in ; and all 
the while he kept thinking, — 

“ Pooh ! what a goose I have made of myself! ” 

Carl Schummel alone, with none to look or to listen, was 
not quite so grand a fellow as Carl Schummel strutting about 
in his boots. 


*3 


194 


Hans Brinker 


XXIII 


BEFORE THE COURT 


OU may believe the landlord’s daughter bestirred herself 



A to prepare a good meal for the boys next morning. 
Mynheer had a Chinese gong, that could make more noise 
than a dozen of breakfast-bells. Its hideous reveille^ clanging 
through the house, generally startled the drowsiest lodgers into 
activity ; but the maiden would not allow it to be sounded 
this morning. 

“ Let the brave young gentlemen sleep,” she said to the 
greasy kitchen-boy ; “ they shall be warmly fed when they 
waken.” 

It was ten o’clock when Captain Peter and his band came 
straggling down, one by one. 

“ A pretty hour,” said mine host, gruffly. “ It is high time 
we were before the court. Fine business this for a respectable 
inn. You will testify truly, young masters, that vou found 
most excellent fare and lodgement at the Red Lion ” 

“ Of course we will,” answered Carl, saucily, “ and pleasant 
company, too, though they visit at rather unseasonable hours.” 

A stare and a “ humph ! ” was all the answer mynheer made 
to this ; but the daughter was more communicative. Shaking 
her ear-rings at Carl, she said sharply, — 

“ Not so very pleasant, either, master traveller, if one could 
judge by the way you ran away from it! ” 


or. The Silver Skates 


19s 


“ Impertinent creature ! ” hissed Carl under his breath, as 
he began busily to examine his skate-straps. Meantime the 
kitchen-boy, listening outside at the crack of the door, doubled 
himself with silent laughter. 

After breakfast the boys went to the police court, accom- 
panied by Huygens Kleef and his daughter. Mynheer’s tes- 
timony was principally to the effect that such a thing as a 
robber at the Red Lion had been unheard of until last night ; 
and, as for the Red Lion, it was a most respectable inn, — as 
respectable as any house in Leyden. Each boy, in turn, told 
all he knew of the affair, and identified the prisoner in the box 
as the same man who entered their room in the dead of night. 
Ludwig was surprised to find that the robber was a man of 
ordinary size, especially after he had described him, under 
oath, to the court, as a tremendous fellow, with great square 
shoulders, and legs of prodigious weight. Jacob swore that 
he was awakened by the robber kicking and thrashing upon 
the floor ; and, immediately afterward, Peter and the rest 
(feeling sorry that they had not explained the matter to their 
sleepy comrade) testified that the man had not moved a muscle 
from the moment the point of the dagger touched his throat, 
until, bound from head to foot, he was rolled over for inspec- 
tion. The landlord’s daughter made one boy blush, and all 
the court smile, by declaring that, “ if it hadn’t been for that 
handsome young gentleman there” (pointing to Peter), they 
‘‘might have all been murdered in their beds; for the dreadful 
man had a great shining knife, most as long as your Honor’s 
arm,” and she believed “ the handsome young gentleman had 
struggled hard enough to get it away from him ; but he was 
too modest, bless him ! to say so.” 

Finally, after a little questioning and cross-questioning from 


Hans Brinker 


196 

the public prosecutor, the witnesses were dismissed ; and the 
robber was handed over to the mercies of the criminal court. 

“ The scoundrel ! ” said Carl, savagely, when the boys 
reached the street. “ He ought to be sent to jail at once. If 
I had been in your place, Peter, I certainly should have killed 
him outright.” 

‘‘ He was fortunate, then, in falling into gentler hands,” 
was Peter’s quiet reply. “ It appears he has been arrested 
before under a charge of house-breaking. He did not succeed 
in robbing, this time ; but he broke the door-fastenings, and 
that, I believe, makes a burglary in the eye of the law. He 
was armed with a knife, too ; and that makes it worse for him, 
poor fellow.” 

“ Poor fellow ! ” mimicked Carl. “ One would think he 
was your brother.” 

“ So he is my brother, and yours, too, Carl Schummel, for 
that matter,” answered Peter, looking into Carl’s eye. “We 
cannot say what we might have become under other circum- 
stances. We have been bolstered up from evil since the hour 
we were born. A happy home and good parents might have 
made that man a fine fellow, instead of what he is. God 
grant that the law may cure, and not crush him ! ” 

“ Amen to that ! ” said Lambert, heartily ; while Ludwig 
van Holp looked at his brother in such a bright, proud way 
that Jacob Poot, who was an only son, wished from his heart 
that the little form buried in the old church at home had lived 
to grow up beside him. 

“ Humph ! ” said Carl. “ It ’s very well to be saintly and 
forgiving, and all that sort of thing ; but I ’m naturally hard. 
All these fine ideas seem to rattle off of me like hailstones ; 
and it ’s nobody’s business, either, if they do.” 


or. The Silver Skates 


197 


Peter recognized a touch of good feeling in this clumsy 
concession. Holding out his hand, he said in a frank, hearty 
tone, — 

“ Come, lad, shake hands, and let us be good friends, even 
if we don’t exactly agree on all questions.” 

‘‘ We do agree better than you think,” sulked Carl as he 
returned Peter’s grasp. 

All right,” responded Peter, briskly. ‘‘Now, Van Mounen, 
we await Benjamin’s wishes. Where would he like to go .? ” 

“To the Egyptian Museum,” answered Lambert, after 
holding a brief consultation with Ben. 

“That is on the Breedstraat. To the museum let it be. 
Come, boys ! ” 


198 


Hans Brinker 


XXIV 


THE BELEAGUERED CITIES 
HIS open square before us,” said Lambert, as he and 



Ben walked on together, is pretty in summer, with 


its shady trees. They call it the Ruine. Years ago it was 
covered with houses ; and the Rapenburg Canal, here, ran 
through the street. Well, one day a barge loaded with forty 
thousand pounds of gunpowder, bound for Delft, was lying 
alongside ; and the bargemen took a notion to cook their 
dinner on the deck ; and, before any one knew it, sir, the 
whole thing blew up, killing lots of persons, and scattering 
about three hundred houses to the winds.” 

“ What ! ” exclaimed Ben. Did the explosion destroy 
three hundred houses ? ” 

Yes, sir. My father was in Leyden at the time. He says 
it was terrible. The explosion occurred just noon, and was 
like a volcano. All this part of the town was on fire in an 
instant, buildings tumbling down, and men, women and chil- 
dren groaning under the ruins. The king himself came to the 
city, and acted nobly, father says, staying out in the streets all 
night, encouraging the survivors in their efforts to arrest the 
fire, and rescue as many as possible from under the heaps of 
stone and rubbish. Through his means, a collection for the 
benefit of the sufferers was raised throughout the kingdom, 
besides a hundred thousand guilders paid out of the treasury. 


or. The Silver Skates 


199 


Father was only nineteen years old then (it was in 1807, I be- 
lieve) j but he remembers it perfectly. A friend of his, Pro- 
fessor Luzac, was among the killed. They have a tablet 
erected to his memory in St. Peter’s Church, further on, — 
the queerest thing you ever saw, with an image of the professor 
carved upon it, representing him just as he looked when he was 
found after the explosion.” 

“ What a strange idea! Isn’t Boerhaave’s monument in St. 
Peter's also ? ” 

“ I cannot remember. Perhaps Peter knows.” 

The captain delighted Ben by saying that the monument 
was there, and that he thought they might be able to see it 
during the dgy. 

“Lambert,” continued Peter, “ask Ben if he saw Van der 
Werf’s portrait at the Town Hall last night ? ” 

“ No,” said Lambert, “ I can answer for him. It was too 
late to go in. I say, boys, it is really wonderful how much 
Ben knows. Why, he has told me a volume of Dutch history 
already. I ’ll wager he has the siege of Leyden at his tongue’s 
end.” 

“His tongue must burn, then,” interposed Ludwig; “for, 
if Bilderdyk’s account is true, it was a pretty hot affair.” 

Ben was looking at them with an inquiring smile. 

“We are speaking of the siege of Leyden,” explained 
Lambert. 

“ Oh, yes ! ” said Ben, eagerly : “ I had forgotten all about 
it. This was the very place. Let ’s give old Van der Werf 
three cheers. Hur — ” 

Van Mounen uttered a hasty “ Hush ! ” and explained that, 
patriotic as the Dutch were, the police would soon have some- 
thing to say, if a party of boys cheered in the street at midday. 


200 


Hans Brinker 


“What ! not cheer Van der Werf ? ” cried Ben, indignantly. 
“ One of the greatest chaps in history ? Only think ! Didn’t 
he hold out against those murderous Spaniards for months and 


months ! There was 
the town, surrounded 
on all sides by the ene- 
my, great black forts 
sending fire and death 
into the very heart of 
the city, — but no sur- 
render ! Every man a 
hero; women and chil- 
dren, too, brave and 
fierce as lions ; pro- 
visions giving out ; the 
very grass from be- 
tween the paving-stones 
gone, till people were 
glad to eat horses and 
cats and dogs and rats. 
Then came the plague. 
Hundreds dying in the 



VAN DER WERE. 


streets, but no surrender. Then, when they could bear no 
more ; when the people, brave as they were, crowded about 
Van der Werf in the public square, begging him to give up, — 
what did the noble old burgomaster say ? ‘ I have sworn to 
defend this city ; and, with God’s help, / mean to do it / If 
my body can satisfy your hunger, take It, and divide it among 
you, but expect no surrender so long as I am alive.’ Hurrah ! 
hur — ” 

Ben was getting uproarious ; Lambert playfully clapped his 


or. The Silver Skates 


201 


hand over his friend’s mouth. The result was one of those 
quick, india-rubber scuffles, fearful to behold but delightful to 
human nature in its polliwog state. 

“Vat wash te matter. Pen?” asked Jacob, hurrying for- 
ward. 

“ Oh ! nothing at all,” panted Ben, “ except that Van 
Mounen was afraid of starting an English riot in this orderly 
town. He stopped my cheering for old Van der — ” 

“ Ya, ya ! It ish no goot to sheer, to make te noise for dat. 
You vill shee old Van der Does’ likeness mit de Stadhuis.” 

“ See old Van der Does ? I thought it was Van der Werfs 
picture they had there.” 

“ Ya ! ” responded Jacob. “Van der Werf — veil, vot of 
it ? Both ish just ash goot.” 

“Yes, Van der Does was a noble old Dutchman; but he 
was not Van der Werf. I know he defended the city like a 
brick, and — ” 

“ Now vot for you shay dat, Penchamin ? He no defend 
te citty mit breek : he fight like good soltyer mit his guns. 
You like make te fun mit effrysinks Tutch.” 

“ No, no, no ! I said he defended the city like a brick. 
That is very high praise, I would have you understand. We 
English call even the Duke of Wellington a brick.” 

Jacob looked puzzled ; but his indignation was already on 
the ebb. 

“ Veil, it ish no matter. I no tink before, soltyer mean 
breek ; but it ish no matter.” 

Ben laughed good-naturedly ; and, seeing that his cousin 
was tired of talking in English, he turned to his friend of the 
two languages, — 

“ Van Mounen, they say the very carrier-pigeons that 


202 


Hans Brinker 


brought news of relief to the besieged city are somewhere here 
in Leyden. I really should like to see them ! Just think of 
it. At the very height of the trouble, if the wind didn’t turn, 
and blow in the waters, and drown hundreds of the Spaniards, 
and enable the Dutch boats to sail in right over the land, with 
men and provisions, to the very gates of the city ! The 
pigeons, you know, did great service in bearing letters to and 
fro. I have read, somewhere, that they were reverently cared 
for from that day ; and, when they died, they were stuffed, 
and placed for safe keeping in the Town Hall. We must be 
sure to have a look at them.” 

Van Mounen laughed. ‘‘ On that principle, Ben, I sup- 
pose, when you go to Rome, you ’ll expect to see the identical 
goose that saved the Capitol. But it will be easy enough to 
see the pigeons. They are in the same building with Van 
der Werf’s portrait. Which was the greater defence, Ben, — 
the siege of Leyden, or the siege of Haarlem ? ” 

“ Well,” replied Ben, thoughtfully, ‘‘Van der Werf is one 
of my heroes.,- We all have our historical pets, you know; 
but I really think the siege of Haarlem brought out a braver, 
more heroic resistance even, than the Leyden one ; besides, 
they set the Leyden sufferers an example of courage and 
fortitude, for their turn came first.” 

“ I don’t know much about the Haarlem siege,” said 
Lambert, “ except that it was in 1573. Who beat ? ” 

“The Spaniards,” said Ben, “The Dutch had stood out 
for months. Not a man would yield, nor a woman, either, 
for that matter. They shouldered arms, and fought gallantly 
beside their husbands and fathers. Three hundred of them 
did duty under Kanau Hesselaer, a great woman, and brave 
as Joan of Arc. All this time the city was surrounded by the 


or, The Silver Skates 


203 


Spaniards under Frederick of Toledo, son of that beauty, the 
Duke of Alva. Cut ofF from all possible help from without, 
there seemed to be no hope for the inhabitants ; but they 
shouted defiance over the city walls. They even threw bread 
into the enemy’s camps, to show that they were not afraid of 
starvation. Up to the last, they held out bravely, waiting for 
the help that never could come, growing bolder and bolder 
until their provisions were exhausted. Then it was terrible. 



CARRIER PIGEONS. 


In time hundreds of famished creatures fell dead in the streets ; 
and the living had scarcely strength to bury them. At last 
they made the desperate resolution that, rather than perish by 
lingering torture, the strongest would form in a square, placing 
the weakest in the centre, and rush in a body to their death, 
with the faint chance of being able to fight their way through 
the enemy. The Spaniards received a hint of this ; and, 
believing there was nothing the Dutch would not dare to do, 
they concluded to offer terms.” 

High time, I should think.” 

Yes; with falsehood and treachery they soon obtained an 


204 


Hans Brinker 


entrance into the city, promising protection and forgiveness to 
all except those whom the citizens themselves would acknowl- 
edge as deserving of death.” 

‘‘ You don’t say so ! ” said Lambert, quite interested. 
“ That ended the business, I suppose.” 

‘‘ Not a bit of it ! ” returned Ben ; ‘‘ for the Duke of Alva 
had already given his son orders to show mercy to none.” 

“ Ah ! there was where the great Haarlem massacre came 
in. I remember now. You can’t wonder that the Hollanders 
dislike Spain, when you read of the way they were butchered 
by Alva and his hosts ; though I admit that our side some- 
ti.mes retaliated terribly. But, as I have told you before, I 
have a very indistinct idea of historical matters. Everything 
is utter confusion, from the flood to the battle of Waterloo. 
One thing is plain, however, the Duke of Alva was about the 
worst specimen of a man that ever lived.” 

‘‘ That gives only a faint idea of him,” said Ben. “ But I 
hate to think of such a wretch. What if he had brains, and 
military skill, and all that sort of thing ! Give me such men 
as Van der Werf, and — What now ” 

“Why,” said Van Mounen, who was looking up and down 
the street in a bewildered way, “ we’ve walked right past the 
museum, and I don’t see the boys. Let us go back.” 


or, The Silver Skates 


205 


XXV 

LEYDEN 

T he boys met at the museum, and were soon engaged 
in examining its extensive collection of curiosities, 
receiving a new insight into Egyptian life, ancient and 
modern. Ben and Lambert had often visited the British 
Museum y but that did not prevent them from being surprised 
at the richness of the Leyden collection. There were house- 
hold utensils, wearing apparel, weapons, musical instruments, 
sarcophagi, and mummies of men, women and cats, ibexes 
and other creatures. They saw a massive gold armlet that 
had been worn by an Egyptian king at a time when some 
of these same mummies, perhaps, were nimbly treading the 
streets of Thebes ; and jewels and trinkets such as Pharaoh’s 
daughter wore, and the children of Israel borrowed when they 
departed out of Egypt. 

There were other interesting relics from Rome and Greece 
and some curious Roman pottery, which had been discovered 
in digging near the Hague, — relics of the days when the 
countrymen of Julius Caesar had settled there. Where did 
they not settle ? I, for one, would hardly be astonished if 
relics of the ancient Romans should some day be found deep 
under the mass growing round the Bunker Hill Monument. 

When the boys left this museum, they went to another, and 
saw a wonderful collection of fossil animals, skeletons, birds, 


2o6 


Hans Brinker 


minerals, precious stones and other natural specimens ; but, 
as they were not learned men, they could only walk about 
and stare, enjoy the little knowledge of natural history they 
possessed, and wish with all their hearts they had acquired 
more. Even the skeleton of the mouse puzzled Jacob. 
What wonder ! He was not used to seeing the cat-fearing 
little creatures running about in their bones ; and how could 
he ever have imagined their necks to be so queer? 

Besides the Museum of Natural History, there was St. 
Peter’s Church to be visited, containing Professor Luzac’s 
Memorial, and Boerhaave’s Monument of white and black 
marble, with its urn and carved symbols of the four ages of 
life, and its medallion of Boerhaave, adorned with his favorite 
motto, “ Simplex sigillmn veri.^^ They also obtained admittance 
to a tea-garden, which in summer was a favorite resort of the 
citizens, and, passing naked oaks and fruit-trees, ascended a 
high mound which stood in the centre. This was the site of 
a round tower, now in ruins, said by some to have been built 
by Hengistj the Anglo-Saxon king, and by others to have been 
the castle of one of the ancient counts of Holland. 

As the boys walked about on the top of its stone wall, they 
could get but a poor view of the surrounding city. The 
tower stood higher, when, more than two centuries ago, the 
inhabitants of beleaguered Leyden shouted to the watcher on 
its top their wild, despairing cries, “ Is there any help ? ” 
“ Are the waters rising ? ” “ What do you see ? ” 

And for months he could only answer, “ No help. I see 
around us nothing but the enemy.” 

Ben pushed these thoughts away ; and, resolutely looking 
down into the bare tea-garden, filled it in imagination with 
gay summer groups. He tried to forget old battle-clouds, and 


or. The Silver Skates 


207 



picture only curling wreaths of tobacco-smoke, rising from 
among men, women and children enjoying their tea and 
coftee in the open air. But a tragedy came in spite of him. 

Foot was bending over the edge of the high wall. It would 
be just like him to grow dizzy, and tumble off. Ben turned 
impatiently away. If the fellow, with his weak head, knew 
no better than to be venturesome, why, let him tumble. 
Horror ! what meant that heavy, crashing sound ? 

Ben could not stir. He could only easp, — 

Jacob!” 

“Jacob! ” cried another startled voice, and another. 

Ready to faint, Ben managed to turn his head. He saw a 
crowd of boys on the 
edge of the wall opposite ; 
but Jacob was not there. 

“ Good Heavens ! ” he 
cried, springing forward, 

“ where is my cousin ? ” 

The crowd parted. It 
was only four bovs, after 
all. There sat Jacob in 
their midst, holding his 
fat sides, and laughing 
heartily. 

“ Did I frighten you 
all ?” he said in his native 
Dutch. “Well, I will 
tell you how it was. 

There was a big stone 
lying on the wall, and I put my foot out, just to push it a 
little, you see ; and, the first thing I knew, down went the 


DID I FRIGHTEN YOU ALL?” 


2o8 


Hans Brinker 


stone all the way to the bottom, and left me sitting here on 
top with both my feet in the air. If I had not thrown myself 
back at that moment, I certainly should have rolled over after 
the stone. Well, it is no matter. Help me up, boys.” 

‘‘You are hurt, Jacob,” said Ben, seeing a shade of serious- 
ness pass over his cousin’s face as they lifted him to his feet. 

Jacob tried to laugh again. “ Oh, no ! I feels little hurt 
ven I stant up ; but it ish no matter.” 


The monument to Van der Werf in the Hooglandsche Kerk 
was not accessible that day ; but the boys spent a few pleasant 



moments in the Stadhuis, or Town Hall, — a long, irregular 
structure somewhat in the Gothic style, uncouth in architec- 
ture, but picturesque from age. Its little steeple, tuneful with 


or, The Silver Skates 


209 


bells, seemed to have been 
borrowed from some other 
building, and hastily clapped 
on as a finishing touch. 

Ascending the grand stair- 
case, the boys soon found 
themselves in a rather gloomy 
apartment, containing the mas- 
terpiece of Lucas van Leyden, 
or Hugens, a Dutch artist, 
born nearly four hundred years 
ago, who painted quite clev- 
erlv when he was ten years 
of age, and became distin- 
guished in art when only fifteen. This picture, called the 
‘‘ Last Judgment,” considering the remote age in which it was 
painted, is truly a remarkable production. The boys, however, 
were less interested in tracing out the merits of the work than 
they were in the fact of its being a triptych ; that is, painted 
on three divisions, — the two outer ones swung on hinges so 
as to close, when required, over the main portion. 

The historical pictures by Harel de Moor, and other famous 
Dutch artists, interested them for a while ; and Ben had 
to be almost pulled away from the dingy old portrait of 
Van der Werf. 

The Town Hall, as well as the Egyptian Museum, is on 
the Breedstraat, the longest and finest street in Leyden. It 
has no canal running through it ; and the houses, painted in 
every variety of color, have a picturesque effect as they stand 
with their gable-ends to the street. Some are very tall, with 
half of their height in their step-like roofs ; others crouch 



A TRIPTYCH. 


14 



210 


Hans Brinker 


before the public edifices and churches. Being clean, spacious, 
well-shaded, and adorned with many elegant mansions, it 
compares favorably with the finer portions of Amsterdam. It 
is kept scrupulously neat. Many of the gutters are covered 
with boards that open like trap-doors ; and it is supplied with 
pumps surmounted with shining brass ornaments, kept scoured 
and bright at the public cost. The city is intersected by 
numerous water-roads formed by the river Rhine, there grown 
sluggish, fatigued by its long travel ; but more than one hun- 
dred and fifty stone bridges re-unite the dissevered streets. 
The same world-renowned river, degraded from the beautiful, 
free-flowing Rhine, serves as a moat around the rampart that 
surrounds Leyden, and is crossed by drawbridges at the impos- 
ing gateways that give 
access to the city. 
Fine broad prome- 
nades, shaded by noble 
trees, border the canals, 
and add to the retired 
appearance of the 
houses behind, height- 
ening the effect of scho- 
lastic seclusion that 
seems to pervade the 
place. 

Ben, as he scanned 
the buildings on the 
Rapenburg Canal, was 
somewhat disappointed in the appearance of the great Uni- 
versity of Leyden. But when he recalled its history — how, 
attended with all the pomp of a grand civic display, it had 



THE UNIVERSITY OF LEYDEN. 


or, The Silver Skates 


21 I 



been founded by the Prince of Orange as a tribute to the 
citizens for the bravery displayed during the siege ; when he 
remembered the great men in religion, learning and science, 
who had once studied there ; and thought of the hundreds 
of students now sharing the benefits of its classes, and its 
valuable scientific museums — he was quite willing to forego 
architectural beauty, though he could not help feeling that 
no amount of it could have been misplaced on such an 
institution. 

Peter and Jacob regarded the building with even a deeper, 
more practical interest j 
for they were to enter it 
as students in the course 
of a few months. 

‘‘ Poor Don Quixote 
would have run a hopeless 
tilt in this part of the 
world,” said Ben, after 
Lambert had been point- 
ing out some of the oddi- 
ties and beauties of the 
suburbs : “ it is all wind- 
mills. You remember his 
terrific contest with one, 

I suppose.” 

“ No,” said Lambert, 
bluntly. 

“ W ell, I don’t, either ; rembrandt. 

that is, not definitely. 

But there was something of that kind in his adventures ; and 
if there wasn’t there should have been. Look at them : how 


212 


Hans Brinker 


frantically they whirl their great arms ! — just the thing to excite 
the crazy knight to mortal combat. It bewilders one to look 
at them. Help me to count all those we can see, Van 
Mounen. I want a big item for my note-book.” And after 
a careful reckoning, superintended by all the party. Master 
Ben wrote in pencil, Saw, Dec. — 184—, ninety-eight wind- 
mills within full view of Leyden.” 

He would have been glad to visit the old brick mill in 
which the painter Rembrandt was born ; but he abandoned 
the project upon learning that it would take them out of their 
way. Few boys as hungry as Ben was by this time would 
hesitate long between Rembrandt’s home a mile off, and tiffin 
close by. Ben chose the latter. 

After tiffin^ they rested a while, and then — took another, 
which, for form’s sake, they called dinner. After dinner the 
boys sat warming themselves at the inn, — all but Peter, who 
occupied the time in another fruitless search for Dr. Boekman. 

This over, the party once more prepared for skating. 
They were thirteen miles from the Hague, and not as fresh 
as when they had left Broek early on the previous day. But 
they were in good spirits, and the ice was excellent. 


or, The Silver Skates 


213 


XXVI 

THE PALACE AND THE WOOD 

A S the boys skated onward, they saw a number of fine 
country-seats, all decorated and surrounded according 
to the Dutchest of Dutch taste, but impressive to look upon, 
with their great formal houses, elaborate gardens, square 
hedges and wide ditches, — some crossed by a bridge, having 
a gate in the middle to be carefully locked at night. These 
ditches, everywhere traversing the landscape, had long ago 
lost their summer film, and now shone under the sunlight like 
trailing ribbons of glass. 

The boys travelled bravely, all the while performing the 
surprising feat of producing gingerbread from their pockets, 
and causing it to vanish instantly. 

Twelve miles were passed. A few more strokes would 
take them to the Hague, when Van Mounen proposed that 
they should vary their course by walking into the city through 
the Bosch. 

Agreed ! ” cried one and all ; and their skates were off 
in a twinkling. 

The Bosch is a grand park, or wood, nearly two miles long, 
containing the celebrated House in the Wood, — Huis int 
Bosch^ — sometimes used as a royal residence. 

This building, though plain outside for a palace, is elegantly 
furnished within, and finely frescoed; that is, the walls and 


214 


Hans Brinker 


ceiling are covered with groups and designs painted directly 
upon them while the plaster was fresh. Some of the rooms 



IN THE BOSCH. 

are tapestried with Chinese silk, beautifully embroidered. One 
contains a number of family portraits, among them a group 


or. The Silver Skates 


215 


of royal children, who in time were orphaned by a certain axe 
which figures very frequently in European history. These 
children were painted many times by the Dutch artist Van 
Dyck, who was court-painter to their father, Charles the 
First of England. Beautiful children they were. What a 
deal of trouble the English nation would have been spared, 
had they been as perfect in heart and soul as they were in 
form ! 

The park surrounding the palace is charming, especially in 
summer ; for flowers and birds make it bright as fairyland. 
Long rows of magnificent oaks rear their proud heads, con- 
scious that no profaning hand will ever bring them low. In 
fact, the Wood has for ages been held as an almost sacred 
spot. Children are never allowed to meddle with its smallest 
twig : the axe of the woodman has never resounded there. 
Even war and riot have passed it reverently, pausing for a 
moment in their devastating way. Philip of Spain, while he 
ordered Dutchmen to be mowed down by hundreds, issued a 
mandate that not a bough of the beautiful Wood should be 
touched. And once, when, in a time of great necessity, the 
State was about to sacrifice it to assist in filling a nearly 
exhausted treasury, the people rushed to the rescue, and nobly 
contributed the required amount rather than that the Bosch 
should fall. 

What wonder, then, that the oaks have a grand, fearless 
air ? Birds from all Holland have told them how, elsewhere, 
trees are cropped and bobbed into shape ; but they are 
untouched. Year after year, they expand in undipped luxuri- 
ance and beauty. Their wide-spreading foliage, alive with 
song, casts a cool shade over lawn and pathway, or bows to 
its image in the sunny ponds. 


2i6 


Hans Brinker 


Meanwhile, as if to reward the citizens for allowing her to 
have her way for once, Nature departs from the invariable 
level, wearing gracefully the ornaments that have been rever- 
ently bestowed upon her. So the lawn slopes in a velvety 
green ; the paths wind in and out ; flower-beds glow and 
send forth perfume ; and ponds and sky look at each other 
in mutual admiration. 

Even on that winter day, the Bosch was beautiful. Its 
trees were bare ; but beneath them still lay the ponds, every 
ripple smoothed into glass. The blue sky was bright over- 
head ; and, as it looked down through the thicket of boughs, 
it saw another blue sky, not nearly so bright, looking up from 
the dim thicket under the ice. 

Peter drew a vivid picture of its summer charms, and made 
the boys smile as he glowingly described the noble ladies and 
pretty girls in holiday array, whom he had met in his after- 
noon walks to the delightful park. 

Never had the sunset appeared more beautiful to Peter than 
when he saw it exchanging farewell glances with the windows 
and shining roofs of the city before him. Never had the 
Hague itself seemed more inviting. He was no longer Peter 
van Holp, going to visit a great city, nor a fine young gentle- 
man bent on sight-seeing : he was a knight, an adventurer 
travel-soiled and weary, a Hop-o’-my-thumb grown large, a 
Fortunatus approaching the enchanted castle where luxury 
and ease awaited him ; for his own sister’s house was not half 
a mile away. 

“ At last, boys,” he cried in high glee, “ we may hope for a 
royal resting-place, — good beds, warm rooms, and something 
to eat. Our lodgings at the Red Lion have made us appreciate 
our own homes.” 


or. The Silver Skates 


217 


XXVII 

THE MERCHANT PRINCE AND THE PRINCESS 

W ELL might Peter feel that his sister’s house was like an 
enchanted castle. Large and elegant as it was, a 
spell of quiet hung over it. The very lion crouching at its 
gate seemed to have been turned into stone through magic. 
Within, it was guarded by genii, in the shape of red-faced serv- 
ants, who sprang silently forth at the summons of bell or 
knocker. There was a cat, also, who appeared as knowing as 
any Puss-in-Boots; and a brass gnome in the hall, whose busi- 
ness it was to stand with outstretched arms ready to receive 
sticks and umbrellas. Safe within the walls bloomed a Garden 
of Delight, where the flowers firmly believed it was summ.er, 
and a sparkling fountain was laughing merrily to itself because 
Jack Frost could not find it. There was a Sleeping Beauty, 
too^ just at the time of the boys’ arrival. But when Peter, 
like a true prince, flew lightly up the stairs, and kissed her 
eyelids, the enchantment was broken. The princess became 
his own good sister, and the fairy castle just one of the finest, 
most comfortable houses of the Hague. 

As may well be believed, the boys received the heartiest of 
welcomes. After they had conversed a while with their lively 
hostess, one of the genii summoned them to a grand repast in 
a red-curtained room, where floor and ceiling shone like pol- 
ished ivory ; and the mirrors suddenly blossomed into rosy- 
cheeked boys as far as the eye could reach. 


2i8 


Hans Brinker 


They had caviare now, and salmagundi, and sausage and 
cheese, besides salad and fruit and biscuit and cake. ’ How the 
boys could partake of such a medley was a mystery to Ben ; 
for the salad was sour, and the cake was sweet , the fruit was 
dainty, and the salmagundi heavy with onions and fish. But, 
while he was wondering, he made a hearty meal, and was soon 
absorbed in deciding which he really preferred, — the coffee, 
or the anisette cordial. It was delightful, too, — this taking 
one’s food from dishes of frosted silver, and liquor-glasses 
from which Titania herself might have sipped. The young 
gentleman afterward wrote to his mother, that, pretty and 
choice as things were at home, he had never known what 
cut glass, china, and silver services were until he visited the 
Hague. 

Of course Peter’s sister soon heard of all the boys’ adven- 
tures, — how they had skated over forty miles, and seen rare 
sights on the way ; how they had lost their purse, and found 
it again ; how one of the party had fallen, and given them an 
excuse for a grand sail in an ice-boat ; how, above all, they 
had caught a robber, and so, for a second time, saved their 
slippery purse. 

“ And now, Peter,” said the lady, when the story was fin- 
ished, ‘‘ you must write at once to tell the good people of 
Broek that your adventures have reached their height, that you 
and your fellow-travellers have all been taken prisoners.” 

The boys looked startled. 

“Indeed, I shall do no such thing,” laughed Peter. “We 
must leave to-morrow at noon.” 

But the sister had already decided differently ; and a Hol- 
land lady is not to be easily turned from her purpose. In 
short, she held forth such strong temptations, and was so 


or, The Silver Skates 


219 


bright and cheerful, and said so many coaxing and unanswer- 
able things, both in English and Dutch, that the boys were all 
delighted when it was settled that they should remain at the 
Hague for at least two days. 

Next the grand skating-race was talked over. Mevrouw 
van Gend gladly promised to be present on the occasion. “ I 
shall witness your triumph, Peter,” she said ; ‘‘ for you are 
the fastest skater I ever knew.” 

Peter blushed, and gave a slight cough, as Carl answered 
for him. 

‘‘Ah, mevrouw^ he is swift : but all the Broek boys are fine 
skaters, even the rag-pickers ; ” and he thought bitterly of 
poor Hans. 

The lady laughed. “ That will make the race all the more 
exciting,” she said. “ But I shall wish each of you to be the 
winner.” 

At this moment her husband. Mynheer van Gend, came in ; 
and the enchantment falling upon the boys was complete. 

The invisible fairies of the household at once clustered 
about them, whispering that Jasper van Gend had a heart as 
young and fresh as their own ; and, if he loved anything in 
this world more than industry, it was sunshine and frolic. 
They hinted, also, something about his having a heart full of 
love, and a head full of wisdom, and finally gave the boys to 
' understand, that, when mynheer said a thing, he meant it. 

Therefore his frank “Well now, this is pleasant,” as he 
shook hands with them all, made the boys feel quite at home, 
and as happy as squirrels. 

There were fine paintings in the drawing-room, and exquisite 
statuary, and portfolios filled with rare Dutch engravings, 
besides many beautiful and curious things from China and 


220 


H ans Brinker 


Japan. The boys felt that it would require a month to 
examine all the treasures of the apartment. 

Ben noticed with pleasure English books lying upon the 
table. He saw, also, over the carved, upright piano, life-sized 
portraits of William of Orange and his English queen, — a 
sight that for a time brought England and Holland side by 



WILLIAM OF ORANGE AND QUEEN MARY. 

side in his heart. William and Mary have left a halo round 
the English throne to this day, — he the truest patriot that 
ever served an adopted country ; she the noblest wife that ever 
sat upon a British throne up to the time of Victoria, and Albert 
the Good. As Ben looked at the pictures, he remembered 
accounts he had read of King William’s visit to the Hague in 
the winter of 1691. He who sang the “ Battle of Ivry,” had 


or, The Silver Skates 


221 


not yet told the glowing story of that day ; but Ben knew 
enough of it to fancy that he could almost hear the shouts of 
the delighted populace as he looked from the portraits to the 
street, which at this moment was aglow with a bonfire, kindled 
in a neighboring square. 

That royal visit was one never to be forgotten. For two 
years William of Orange had been monarch of a foreign land, 
his head working faithfully for England, but his whole heart 
yearning for Holland. Now, when he sought its shores once 
more, the entire nation bade him welcome. Multitudes flocked 
to the Hague to meet him. “ Many thousands came sliding 
or skating along the frozen canals from Amsterdam, Rotterdam, 
Leyden, Haarlem, Delft.” ^ ‘‘All day long the festivities of 
the capital were kept up. The streets were gorgeous with ban- 
ners, evergreen arches, trophies and mottoes of welcome, and 
emblems of industry. William saw the deeds of his ancestors, 
and scenes of his own past life, depicted on banners and tapes- 
tries along the streets. At night, superb fireworks were dis- 
played upon the ice. Its glassy surface was like a mirror. 
Sparkling fountains of light sprang up from below to meet the 
glittering cascades leaping upon it ; then a feathery fire of 
crimson and green shook millions of rubies and emeralds into 
the ruddy depths of the ice : ” and all this time the people 
were shouting, “ God bless William of Orange ! Long live 
the King ! ” They were half mad with joy and enthusiasm. 
William, their own prince, their stadtholder, had become the 
ruler of three kingdoms. He had been victorious in council 
and in war, and now, in his hour of greatest triumph, had 
come as a simple guest to visit them. The king heard their 
shouts with a beating heart. It is a great thing to be beloved by 
1 Macaulay’s History of England. 


222 


Hans Brinker 


one’s country. His English courtiers complimented him upon 
his reception. ‘‘Yes,” said he; “but the shouting is nothing 
to what it would have been if Mary had been with me !” 

While Ben was looking at the portraits, Mynheer van Gend 
was giving the boys an account of a recent visit to Antwerp. 
As it was the birthplace of Quentin Matsys, the blacksmith 
who for love of an artist’s daughter studied until he became a 
great painter, the boys asked their host if he had seen any of 
Matsys’ works. 

“ Yes, indeed ! ” he replied ; “ and excellent they are. His 
famous triptych in a chapel of the Antwerp Cathedral, with 
the Descent from the Cross on the centre panel, is especially 
fine ; but I confess I was more interested in his well.” 

“ What well, mynheer ? ” asked Ludwig. 

“ One in the heart of the city, near this same cathedral, 
whose lofty steeple is of such delicate workmanship that the 
French emperor said it reminded him of Mechlin lace. The 
well is covered with a Gothic canopy, surmounted by the 
figure of a knight in full armor. It is all of metal, and proves 
that Matsys was an artist at the forge as well as at the easel : 
indeed, his great fame is mainly derived from his miraculous 
skill as an artificer in iron.” 

Next, mynheer showed the boys some exquisite Berlin cast- 
ings, which he had purchased in Antwerp. They were iron 
jewelry^ and very delicate, — beautiful medallions designed 
from rare paintings, bordered with fine tracery and openwork, 
— worthy, he said, of being worn by the fairest lady of the 
land. Consequently the necklace was handed, with a bow 
and a smile, to the blushing Mevrouw van Gend. 

Something in the lady’s aspect as she bent her bright young 
face over the gift caused mynheer to add earnestly, — 


or, The Silver Skates 2,23 

“ I can read your thoughts, 
sweetheart.” 

She looked up in playful 
defiance. 

‘‘ Ah ! now I am sure of 
them. You were thinking of 
those noble-hearted women, but 
for whom Prussia might have 
fallen. I know it by that proud 
light in your eye.” 

‘‘ The proud light in my 
eye plays me false, then,” she 
answered. ‘‘ I had no such 
grand matter in my mind. To 
confess the simple truth, I was 
only thinking how lovely this 
necklace would be with my 
blue brocade.” 

,, Q I „ 1 . 1 QUENTIN MATSYS’S WELL AT 

“ bo, SO ! exclaimed the ^ 

ANTWERP. 

rather crestfallen spouse. 

“ But I can think of the other, Jasper ; and it will add a 
deeper value to your gift. You remember the incident, do you 
not, Peter? — how when the French were invading Prussia, 
and for lack of means the country was unable to defend itself 
against the enemy, the women turned the scale by pouring 
their plate and jewels into the public treasury.” 

“ Aha ! ” thought mynheer, as he met his vrouw^s kindling 
glance. “The proud light is there now, in earnest.” 

Peter remarked mischievously that the women had still 
proved true to their vanity on that occasion ; for jewelry they 
would have. If gold or silver were wanted by the kingdom. 



224 


Hans Brinker 


they would relinquish it, and use iron ; but they could not 
do without their ornaments. 

“ What of that ? ” said the vrouw^ kindling again. “ It is 
no sin to love beautiful things, if you adapt your material to 
circumstances. All / have to say is, the women saved their 
country, and, indirectly, introduced a very important branch 
of manufacture. Is not that so, Jasper ? ” 

“ Of course it is, sweetheart,” said mynheer ; but Peter 
needs no word of mine to convince him, that, all the world 
over, women have never been found wanting in their country’s 
hour of trial, though ” (bowing to mevrouw) “ his own country- 
women stand foremost in the records of female patriotism and 
devotion.” 

Then, turning to Ben, the host talked with him in English 
’^of the fine old Belgian city. Among other things, he told the 
origin of its name. Ben had been taught that Antwerp was 
derived from aent werf (on the wharf) ; but Mynheer van 
Gend gave him a far more interesting derivation. 

It appears that about three thousand vears ago a great giant, 
named Antigonus, lived on the river Scheld, on the site of 
the present city of Antwerp. This giant claimed half the 
merchandise of all navigators who passed his castle. Of 
course some were inclined to oppose this simple regulation. 
In such cases Antigonus, by way of teaching them to practise 
better manners next time, cut off, and threw into the river, 
the right hands of the merchants. Thus hand-iverpen (or 
hand-throwing), changed to Antwerp, came to be the name 
of the place. The escutcheon, or arms, of the city has two 
hands upon it ; what better proof than this could one have 
of the truth of the story, especially when one wishes to 
believe it ? 


or, The Silver Skates ^ 225 

The giant was finally conquered, and thrown into the 
Scheld by a hero called Brabo, who, in turn, gave a name to 
the district known as Brabant. Since then the Dutch mer- 
chants have travelled the river in peace ; but I, for one, thank 
old Antigonus for giving the city so romantic an origin. 

When Mynheer van Gend had related in two languages 
this story of Antwerp, he was tempted to tell other legends, 
some in English, some in Dutch ; and so the moments, borne 
upon the swift shoulders of gnomes and giants, glided rapidly 
away toward bedtime. 

It was hard to break up so pleasant a party ; but the Van 
Gend household moved with the regularity of clockwork. 
There was no lingering at the threshold when the cordial 
‘‘ Good-night ! ” was spoken. Even while our boys were 
mounting the stairs, the invisible household fairies again 
clustered around them, whispering that system and regularity 
had been chief builders of the master’s prosperity. 

Beautiful chambers with three beds in them were not to be 
found in this mansion. Some of the rooms contained two ; 
but each visitor slept alone. Before morning the motto of 
the party evidently was, “ Every boy his own chrysalis ; ” and 
Peter, at least, was not sorry to have it so. 

Tired as he was, Ben, after noting a curious bell-rope in 
the corner, began to examine his bed-clothes. Each article 
filled him with astonishment, — the exquisitely fine pillow- 
spread trimmed with costly lace, and embroidered with a 
gorgeous crest and initial ; the dekhed cover (a great silk bag, 
large as the bed, stuffed with swan’s down) ; and the pink 
satin quilts, embroidered with garlands of flowers. He could 
scarcely sleep for thinking what a queer little bed it was ; so 
comfortable and pretty, too, with all its queerness. In the 

15 


226 


Hans Brinker 


morning he examined the top coverlet with care ; for he 
wished to send home a description of it in his next letter. It 
was a Japanese spread, marvellous in texture, as well as in 
its variety of brilliant coloring, and worth, as Ben afterward 
learned, not less than three hundred dollars. 

The floor was of polished wooden mosaic, nearly covered 
with a rich carpet, bordered with thick black fringe. Another 
room displayed a margin of satin-wood around the carpet. 
Hung with tapestry, its walls of crimson silk were topped 
with a gilded cornice, which shot down gleams of light far 
into the polished floor. 

Over the doorway of the room in which Jacob and Ben 
slept was a bronze stork, who, with outstretched neck, held a 
lamp to light the guests into the apartment. Between the 
two narrow beds of carved white-wood and ebony stood 
the household treasure of the Van Gends, — a massive 
oaken chair, upon which the Prince of Orange had once sat 
during a council-meeting. Opposite stood a quaintly-carved 
clothes-press, waxed and polished to the utmost, and 
filled with precious stores of linen ; beside it a table hold- 
ing a large Bible, whose great golden clasps looked poor 
compared with its solid, ribbed binding, made to outlast six 
generations. 

There was a ship-model on the mantel-shelf ; and over it 
hung an old portrait of Peter the Great, who, you know, once 
gave the dockyard cats of Holland a fine chance to look at a 
king, which is one of the special prerogatives of cats. Peter, 
though Czar of Russia, was not too proud to work as 
a common shipwright in the dockyards of Zaandam and 
Amsterdam, that he might be able to introduce among his 
countrymen Dutch improvements in shipbuilding. It was 


or, The Silver Skates 


227 


this willingness to be thorough, in even the smallest begin- 
nings, that earned for him the title of Peter the Great. 

Peter the little (comparatively speaking) was up first the 
next morning. Knowing the punctual habits of his brother- 
in-law, he took good care that none of the boys should over- 
sleep themselves. A hard task he found it to wake Jacob 
Poot ; but after pulling 
that young gentleman 
out of bed, and, with 
Ben’s help, dragging him 
about the room for a 
while, he succeeded in 
arousing him. 

While Jacob was 
dressing, and moaning 
within him because the 
felt slippers provided him 
as a guest were too tight 
for his swollen feet, Peter 
wrote to inform their 
friends at Broek of the 
safe arrival of his party 
at the Hague. He also 
begged his mother to 
send word to Hans Brin- 
ker that Dr. Boekman 
had not yet reached Leyden, but that a letter containing Hans’ 
message had been left at the hotel where the doctor always 
lodged during his visits to the city. ‘‘Tell him, also,” wrote 
Peter, “ that I shall call there again as I pass through Leyden. 
The poor boy seemed to feel sure that the meester would 



228 


H ans Brinker 


hasten to save his father; but we, who know the gruff old 
gentleman better, may be confident he will do no such thing. 
It would be a kindness to send a visiting physician from 
Amsterdam to the cottage at once, if Jufvrouw^ Brinker will 
consent to receive any but the great king of the meesters^ as 
Dr. Boekman certainly is. 

“ You know, mother,” added Peter, that I have always 
considered Sister Van Gend’s house as rather quiet and 
lonely ; but I assure you it is not so now. Sister says our 
presence has warmed it for the whole winter. Brother Van 
Gend is very kind to us all. He says we make him wish 
that he had a houseful of bovs of his own. He has promised 
to let us ride on his noble black horses. They are gentle as 
kittens, he says, if one have but a firm touch at the rein. 
Ben, according to Jacob’s account, is a glorious rider ; and 
your son Peter is not a very bad hand at the business : so 
we two are to go out together this morning, mounted like 
knights of old. After we return. Brother Van Gend says he 
will lend Jacob his English pony, and obtain three extra 
horses ; and all of the party are to trot about the city in a 
grand cavalcade, led on by him. He will ride the black horse 
which father sent him from Friesland. My sister’s pretty 
roan, with the long white tail, is lame; and she will ride none 
other, else she would accompany us. I could scarce close 
my eyes last night, after sister told me of the plan. Only 
the thought of poor Hans Brinker and his sick father checked 
me ; but for that, I could have sung for joy. Ludwig has 

^ In Holland, women of the lower grades of society do not take the 
title of Mrs. (or menjrounjS) when they marry, as with us. They assume 
their husband’s name, but are still called Miss (^jufvrounxj, pronounced 
yufronv). 


or, The Silver Skates 


229 


given us a name already, — the Black Cavalry. We flatter 
ourselves that we shall make an imposing appearance, espe- 
cially in single file.” 

The Black Cavalry were not disappointed. Mynheer van 
Gend readily procured good horses ; and all the boys could 
ride, though none were as perfect horsemen (or horseboys) 
as Peter and Ben. They saw the Hague to their hearts’ 
content ; and the Hague saw them, expressing its approbation 
loudly, through the mouths of small boys and cart-dogs ; 



THE BLACK CAVALRY. 


silently, through bright eyes, that, not looking very deeply into 
things, shone as they looked at the handsome Carl, and 
twinkled with fun as a certain portly youth with shaking 
cheeks rode past, ‘‘ bumpetty, bumpetty, bump ! ” 


230 


Hans Brinker 


On their return, the boys pronounced the great porcelain 
stove in the family sitting-room a decidedly useful piece of 
furniture ; for they could gather round it, and get warm, with- 
out burning their noses, or bringing on chilblains. It was so 
very large, that, though hot nowhere, it seemed to send out 
warmth by the houseful. Its pure white sides and polished 
brass rings made it a pretty object to look upon, notwithstand- 
ing the fact that our ungrateful Ben, while growing thoroughly 
warm and comfortable beside it, concocted a satirical sentence 
for his next letter, to the effect that a stove in Holland must, 
of course, resemble a great tower of snow, or it wouldn’t be 
in keeping with the oddity of the country. 

To describe all the boys saw and did on that day and the 
next would render this little book a formidable volume indeed. 
They visited the brass-cannon foundry, saw the liquid fire 
poured into moulds, and watched the smiths, who, half naked, 
stood in the shadow, like demons playing with flame. They 
admired the grand public buildings and massive private houses, 
the elegant streets and noble Bosch, — pride of all beauty- 
loving Hollanders. The palace, with its brilliant mosaic 
floors, its frescoed ceilings and gorgeous ornament, filled 
Ben with delight. He was surprised that some of the 
churches were so very plain, — elaborate sometimes in exter- 
nal architecture, but bare and bleak within, with their blank, 
whitewashed walls. 

If there were no printed record, the churches of Holland 
would almost tell her story. I will not enter into the subject 
here, except to say that Ben, who had read of her struggles 
and wrongs, and of the terrible retribution she from time to 
time dealt forth, could scarcely tread a Holland town without 
mentally leaping, horror-stricken, over the bloody stepping- 


or, The Silver Skates 


231 


stones of its history. He could not forget Philip of Spain, 
nor the Duke of Alva, even while rejoicing in the prosperity 
that followed the Liberation. He looked in the meekest of 
Dutch eyes for something of the fire that once lit the haggard 
faces of those desperate, lawless men, who, wearing with pride 
the title of beggars,” which their oppressors had mockingly 
cast upon them, became the terror of land and sea. In 
Haarlem he had wondered that the air did not still resound 
with the cries of Alva’s three thousand victims. In Leyden 
his heart had swelled in sympathy as he thought of the long 
procession of scarred and famished creatures, who, after the 
siege, with Adrian van der Werf at their head, tottered to the 
great church to sing a glorious anthem because Leyden was 
free. He remembered that this was even before they had 
tasted the bread brought by the Dutch ships. They would 
praise God first, then eat. Thousands of trembling voices 
were raised in glad thanksgiving. For a moment it swelled 
higher and higher, then suddenly changed to sobbing : not 
one of all the multitude could sing another note. But who 
shall say that the anthem, even to its very end, was not heard 
in heaven ? 

Here, in the Hague, other thoughts came to Ben, — of how 
Holland, in later years, unwillingly put her head under the 
French yoke, and how, galled and lashed past endurance, she 
had resolutely jerked it out again. He liked her for that. 
What nation of any spirit, thought he, could be expected to 
stand such work, — paying all her wealth into a foreign 
treasury, and yielding up the flower of her youth under 
foreign conscription ? It was not so very long ago, either, 
since English guns had been heard booming close by in the 
German Ocean. Well, all the fighting was over at last! 


2J2 


Hans Brinker 


Holland was a snug little monarchy now, in her own right ; 
and Ben, for one, was glad of it. Arrived at this charitable 
conclusion, he was prepared to enjoy to the utmost all the 
wonders of her capital. He quite delighted Mynheer van 
Gend with his hearty and intelligent interest : so, in fact, did 
all the boys ; for a merrier, more observant party never went 
sight-seeing. 


or, The Silver Skates 


233 


XXVIII 

THROUGH THE HAGUE 

T he picture-gallery in the Maurits Huis^ one of the 
finest in the world, seemed only to have flashed by 
the boys during a two hours’ visit, so much was there to 
admire and examine. As for the royal cabinet of curiosities, 
in the same building, they felt that they had but glanced at it, 
though they were there nearly half a day. It seemed to them 
that Japan had poured all her treasures within its walls. For 
a long period Holland, always foremost in commerce, was the 
only nation allowed to have any intercourse with Japan. One 
call well forego a journey to that country, if one can but visit 
the museum at the Hague. 

Room after room is filled with collections from the Hermit 
Empire, — costumes peculiar to various ranks and pursuits, 
articles of ornament, household utensils, weapons, armor and 
surgical instruments. There is also an ingenious Japanese 
model of the Island of Desina, the Dutch factory in Japan. 
It appears almost as the island itself would if seen through a 
reversed opera-glass, and makes one feel like a Gulliver com- 
ing unexpectedly upon a Japanese Lilliput. There you see 
hundreds of people in native costumes, standing, kneeling, 
stooping, reaching, — all at work, or pretending to be, — and 
their dwellings, even their very furniture, spread out before 
you, plain as day. In another room a huge tortoise-shell baby- 

1 A building erected by Prince Maurice of Nassau. 


234 


Hans Brinker 


house, fitted up in Dutch style, and inhabited by dignified 
Dutch dolls, stands ready to tell you at a glance how people 
live in Holland. 

Gretel, Hilda, Katrinka, even the proud Rychie Korbes, 
would have been delighted with this ; but Peter and his gallant 
band passed it by without a glance. The war-implements had 
the honor of detaining them for an hour ; such clubs, such 
murderous krisses, or daggers, such fire-arms, and, above all, 
such wonderful Japanese swords, quite capable of performing 
the accredited Japanese feat of cutting a man in two at a 
single stroke ! 

There were Chinese and other Oriental curiosities in the 
collection. Native historical relics, too, upon which our young 
Dutchmen gazed very soberly, though they were secretly 
proud to show them to Ben. 

There was a model of the cabin at Zaandam, in which 
Peter the Great lived during his short career as a ship-builder ; 
also wallets and bowls once carried by the beggar ” Con- 
federates, who, uniting under the Prince of Orange, had freed 
Holland from the tyranny of Spain ; the sword of Admiral van 
Speyk, who, about ten years before, had perished in voluntarily 
blowing up his own ship; and Van 7'romp’s armor, with the 
marks of bullets upon it. Jacob looked around, hoping to see 
the broom which the plucky admiral fastened to his masthead ; 
but it was not there. The waistcoat which William Third ^ 
of England wore during the last days of his life possessed great 
interest for Ben ; and one and all gazed with a mixture of 
reverence and horror-worship at the identical clothing worn 

1 William, Prince of Orange, who became King of England, was a 
great-grandson of William the Silent, Prince of Orange, who was mur- 
dered by Geraerts (or Gerard) July lo, 1584. 


or, The Silver Skates 


235 

by William the Silent ^ when he was murdered at Delft by 
Balthazar Geraerts. A tawny leather doublet, and plain sur- 
coat of gray, cloth, a soft felt hat, and a high neck-ruff, from 
which hung one of the “ Beggars’ ” medals, — these were not 
in themselves very princely objects, though the doublet had a 
tragic interest from its dark stains and bullet-holes. Ben could 
readily believe, as he looked upon the garments, that the Silent 
Prince, true to his greatness of character, had been exceedingly 
simple in his attire. His aristocratic prejudices were, however, 
decidedly shocked when Lambert told him of the way in which 
William’s bride first entered the Hague. 

The beautiful Louisa de Coligny, whose father and former 
husband both had fallen at the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, 
was coming to be fourth wife to the prince ; and of course,” 
said Lambert, we Hollanders were too gallant to allow the 
lady to enter the town on foot. No, sir ! We sent (or rather 
my ancestors did) a clean, open post-wagon to meet her with 
a plank across it for her to sit upon.” 

“ Very gallant, indeed ! ” exclaimed Ben, with almost a sneer 
in his polite laugh, — and she the daughter of an admiral of 
France.” 

“Was she? Upon my word, I had nearly forgotten that. 
But, you see, Holland had very plain ways in the good old 
time ; in fact, we are a very simple, frugal people to this day. 
The Van Gend establishment is a decided exception, you 
know.” 

“ A very agreeable exception, I think,” said Ben. 

“ Certainly, certainly. But, between you and me. Mynheer 
van Gend, though he has wrought his own fortunes, can afford 
to be magnificent, and yet be frugal.” 

1 See note on page 234. 


Hans Brinker 


236 

‘‘ Exactly so,” said Ben, profoundly, at the same time strok- 
ing his upper lip and chin, which latterly, he believed, had 
been showing delightful and unmistakable signs of coming 
dignities. 

While tramping on foot through the city, Ben often longed 
for a good English sidewalk. Here, as in the other towns, 
there was no curb, no raised pavement for foot travellers ; but 
the streets were clean and even, and all vehicles were kept 
scrupulously within a certain tract. Strange to say, there were 
nearly as many sleds as wagons to be seen, though there was 
not a particle of snow. The sleds went scraping over the 
bricks or cobble-stones ; some provided with an apparatus in 
front for sprinkling water, to diminish the friction, and some 
rendered less musical by means of a dripping oil rag, which 
the driver occasionally applied to the runners. 

Ben was surprised at the noiseless wav in which Dutch 
laborers do their work. Even around the warehouses and 
docks, there was no bustle, no shouting from one to another. 
A certain twitch of the pipe, or turn of the head, or at most a 
raising of the hand, seemed to be all the signal necessary. 
Entire loads of cheeses or herrings are pitched from cart or 
canal-boat into the warehouses without a word : but the passer-by 
must take his chance of being pelted ; for a Dutchman seldom 
looks before or behind him whiie engaged at work. 

Poor Jacob Foot, who seemed destined to bear all the mis- 
haps of the journey, was knocked nearly breathless by a great 
cheese which a fat Dutchman was throwing to a fellow-laborer ; 
but he recovered himself, and passed on without evincing the 
least indignation. 

Ben professed great sympathy on the occasion ; but Jacob 
insisted that it was ‘‘ netting.” 


or, The Silver Skates 


237 


Then why did you screw your face so when it hit you ? ” 

‘‘ What for screw mine face ? ” repeated Jacob, soberly. 

Vy, it vash de — de — ” 

The what ? ” insisted Ben, maliciously. 

Vy, de — de — vat you call dis vat you taste mit de nose ? ” 

Ben laughed. 

“ Oh ! you mean the smell.” 

“ Yesh. Dat ish it,” said Jacob, eagerly. ‘‘It wash de 
shmell. I draw mine face for dat.” 

“ Ha, ha ! ” roared Ben, “ that ’s a good one. A Dutch 
Doy smell a cheese ! You can never make me believe that"' 

“Veil, it ish no matter,” replied Jacob, trudging on beside 
Ben in perfect good-humor : “ vait till you hit mit cheese, dat 
ish all.” 

Soon he added pathetically, “ Penchamin, I no likes be call 
Tutch : dat ish no goot. I bees a Hollander.” 

Just as Ben was apologizing, Lambert hailed him. 

“ Hold up, Ben. Here is the hsh-market. There is not 
much to be seen at this season. But we can take a look at 
the storks, if you wish.” 

Ben knew that storks were held in peculiar reverence in 
Holland, and that the bird figured upon the arms of the 
capital. He had noticed cart-wheels placed upon the roofs of 
Dutch cottages to entice storks to settle upon them ; he had 
seen their huge nests, too, on many a thatched gable-roof 
from Broek to the Hague. But it was winter now. The 
nests were empty. No greedy birdlings opened their mouths, 
or rather their heads, at the approach of a great white winged 
thing, with outstretched neck and legs, bearing a dangling 
something for their breakfast. The long-bills were far away, 
picking up food on African shores ; and, before they would 


Hans Brinker 


238 



storks’ nests on the roofs. 


return in the spring, Ben’s visit to the land of dikes would be 
over. 

Therefore he pressed eagerly forward as Van Mounen led 
the way through the fish-market, anxious to see if storks in 
Holland were anything like the melancholy specimens he had 
seen in the Zoological Gardens of London. 

It was the same old story. A tamed bird is a sad bird, 
say what you will. These storks lived in a sort of kennel, 
chained by the feet, like felons, though supposed to be hpnored 
by being kept at the public expense. In summer they were 
allowed to walk about the market, where the fish-stalls were 
like so many free dining-saloons to them. Untasted delicacies, 
in the form of raw fish and butcher’s offals, lay about their 
kennels now; but the city-guests preferred to stand upon one 
leg, curving back their long neck, and leaning their head side- 
wise, in a blinking revery. How gladly they would have 
changed their petted state for the busy life of some hard- 


or, The Silver Skates 


239 


working stork mother or father, bringing up a troublesome 
family on the roof of a rickety old building, where flapping 
windmills frightened them half to death every time they 
Ventured forth on a frolic ! 

Ben soon made up his mind, and rightly too, that the Hague 
with its fine streets and public parks, shaded with elms, was 
a magnificent city. The prevailing costume was like that of 
London or Paris ; and his British ears were many a time 
cheered by the music of British words. The shops were 
different in many respects from those on Oxford Street and 
the Strand ; but they often were illumined by a printed 
announcement that English was ‘‘ spoken within.” Others 
proclaimed themselves to have London Stout for sale, and one 
actually claimed to be able to regale its customers with English 
roast beef. 

Over every possible shop-door 
was the never-failing placard, Ta- 
hak de Koop tobacco to be sold 
Instead of colored glass globes in 
the windows, or high jars of leech- 
es, the drug stores had a gaping 
Turk’s head at the entrance; or, 
if the establishment were particu- 
larly fine, a wooden mandarin 
entire, indulging in a full yawn. 

Some of these queer faces 
amused Ben exceedingly : they 
seemed to have just swallowed a 
dose of physic ; but Van Mounen 
declared he could not see anything 
funny about them. A druggist 



A GAPER. 


240 


Hans Brinker 



walked meekly 
beside his cart, 
keeping his dog 
in order, and 
delivering the 
milk to cus- 
tomers. Cer- 

A FISH-DEALER IN HIS DOG-CART. 

tain fish-dealers 

had dog-carts also ; and, when a herring-dog chanced to meet 


showed his sense by putting a Gaper before his door, so that 
his place could be known at once as an apotheek ; and that was 
all there was about it. 

Another thing attracted Ben, — the milkmen’s carts. These 

were small af- 
fairs, filled with 
shiny brass ket- 
tles, or stone 
jars, and drawn 
by dogs. The 
milkman 


or, The Silver Skates 


241 


a milk-dog, he invariably put on airs and growled as he passed 
him. Even the dogs of the huckster-women, lean and hard- 
worked enough, poor things, had sufficient spirit to champ and 
snarl while their mistresses were squabbling. Sometimes a 
milk-dog would recognize an acquaintance before another milk- 
cart across the street ; and then how the kettles would rattle, 
especially if they were empty ! Each dog would give a bound, 
and, never caring for his master’s whistle, insist upon meeting 
the other half way. Sometimes they contented themselves 
with an inquisitive sniff ; but generally the smaller dog made 
an affectionate snap at the larger one’s ear, or a friendly tussle 
was engaged in by way of exercise. Then woe to the milk- 
kettles, and woe to the dogs ! 

The whipping over, each dog, expressing his feelings as 
best he could, would trot demurely back to his work. 

If some of these animals were eccentric in their ways, 
others were remarkably well behaved. In fact, there was a 
school for dogs in the city, established expressly for training 
them : Ben probably saw some of its graduates. Many a 
time he noticed a span of barkers trotting along the street, 
with all the dignity of horses, obeying the slightest hint of the 
man walking briskly beside them. Sometimes, when their 
load was delivered, the dealer would jump in the cart, and 
have a fine drive to his home beyond the gates of the city ; 
and sometimes, I regret to say, a patient vrouiv would trudge 
beside the cart, with fish-basket upon her head, and a child in 
her arms, while her lord enjoyed his drive, carrying no heavier 
burden than a stumpy clay pipe, the smoke of which mounted 
shyly into her face. 


6 


Hans Brinker 


24.2 


XXIX 

A DAY OF REST - 

^ I ^ HE sight-seeing came to an end at last; and so did our 
-I- boys’ visit to the Hague. They had spent three 
happy days and nights with the Van Gends, and, strange to 
say, had not once, in all that time, put on skates. The third 
day had indeed been one of rest. The noise and bustle of 
the city was hushed ; sweet Sunday bells sent blessed, tranquil 
thoughts into their hearts. ' Ben felt, as he listened to their 
familiar music, that the Christian world is one, after all, how- 
ever divided by sects and differences it may be. As the 
clock speaks every one’s native language, in whatever land it 
may strike the hour, so church-bells are never foreign, if our 
hearts but listen. 

Led on by those clear voices, our party, with Mevrouw van 
Gend and her husband, trod the quiet but crowded streets, 
until they came to a fine old church in the southern part of 
the city. 

The interior was large, and, notwithstanding its great stained 
windows, seemed dimly lighted, though the walls were white, 
and dashes of red and purple sunshine lay brightly upon pillar 
and pew. 

Ben saw a few old women moving softly through the aisles, 
each bearing a high pile of foot-stoves, which she distributed 
among the congregation, by skilfully slipping out the under 
one, until none were left. It puzzled him that mynheer 


or, The Silver Skates 


243 



should settle himself with the boys in a comfortable side-pew, 
after seating his vrouw in the body of the church, which was 
filled with chairs exclusively ap- 
propriated to the women. But 
Ben was learning only a com- 
mon custom of the country. 

The pews of the nobility 
and the dignitaries of the city 
were circular in form, each 
surrounding a column. Elabo- 
rately carved, they formed a 
massive base to their great pil- 
lars, standing out in bold relief 
against the blank white walls 
beyond. These columns, lofty 
and well proportioned, were 
nicked and defaced from vio- 
lence done to them long ago ; 
yet it seemed quite fitting, that, 
before they were lost in the deep 
arches overhead, their softened 
outlines should leaf out as they 
did into richness and beauty. 

Soon Ben lowered his gaze 
to the marble floor. It was 
a pavement of grave-stones. 

Nearly all the large slabs of which it was composed marked 
the resting-places of the dead. An armorial design engraved 
upon each stone, with inscription and date, told whose form 
was sleeping beneath ; and sometimes three of a family were 
lying one above the other in the same sepulchre. 


FOOT-STOVES IN CHURCH. 


244 


Hans Brinker 


He could not but think of the solemn funeral procession, 
winding by torchlight through those lofty aisles, and bearing 
its silent burden toward a dark opening whence a slab had 
been lifted, in readiness for its coming. It was something to 
feel that his sister Mabel, who died in her flower, was lying 
in a sunny churchyard, where a brook rippled and sparkled in 
the daylight, and waving trees whispered together all night 
long; where flowers might nestle close to the headstone, and 
moon and stars shed their peace upon it, and morning birds 
sing sweetly overhead. 

Then he looked up from the pavement, and rested his eyes 
upon the carved oaken pulpit, exquisitely beautiful in design 
and workmanship. He could not see the minister, — though, 
not long before, he had watched him slowly ascending its 
winding stair, — a mild-faced man, wearing a ruff about his 
neck, and a short cloak reaching nearly to the knee. 

Meantime, the great church had been silently filling. Its 
pews were sombre with men, and its centre radiant with 
women in their fresh Sunday attire. Suddenly a soft rustling 
spread through the building. All eyes were turned toward the 
minister now appearing above the pulpit. 

Although the sermon was spoken slowly, Ben could under- 
stand little of what was said ; but, when the hymn came, he 
joined in with all his heart. A thousand voices lifted in love 
and praise offered a grander language, that he could readily 
comprehend. 

Once he was startled, during a pause in the service, by 
seeing a little bag suddenly shaken before him. It had a 
tinkling bell at its side, and was attached to a long stick 
carried by one of the deacons of the church. Not relying 
solely upon the mute appeal of the poor-boxes, fastened to 


or, The Silver Skates 245 

the column near the entrance, this more direct method was 
resorted to, of awaking the sympathies of the charitable. 

Fortunately Ben had provided himself with a few stivers, or 
the musical bag must have tinkled before him in vain. 

More than once a dark look rose on our English boy’s face 
that morning. He longed to stand up, and harangue the 
people concerning a peculiarity that filled him with pain. 
Some of the men wore their hats during the service, or took 
them olF whenever the humor prompted ; and many put theirs 
on in the church as soon as they arose to leave. No wonder 
Ben’s sense of propriety was wounded ; and yet a higher sense 
would have been exercised, had he tried to feel willing that 
Hollanders should follow the customs of their country. But 
his English heart said over and over again, “ It is outrageous ! 
it is sinful ! ” 

There is an angel called Charity, who often would save 
our hearts a great deal^of trouble, if we would but let her in. 



CONTRIBUTION BAGS. 


246 


Hans Brinker 


XXX 


HOMEWARD BOUND 


N Monday morning, bright and early, our boys bade 



farewell to their kind entertainers, and started on 


their homeward journey. 

Peter lingered a while at the lion-guarded door ; for he and 
his sister had many parting words to say. 

As Ben saw them bidding each other “ good-by,” he could 
not help feeling that kisses, as well as clocks, were wonderfully 
alike everywhere. The English kiss that his sister Jenny 
gave when he left home had said the same thing to him that 
the vrouw Van Gend’s Dutch kiss said to Peter. Ludwig 
had taken his share of the farewell in the most matter-of-fact 
manner possible, and, though he loved his sister well, had 
winced a little at her making such a child of him as to put an 
extra kiss for mother ” upon his forehead. 

He was already upon the canal with Carl and Jacob. 
Were they thinking about sisters or kisses? Not a bit of it. 
They were so happy to be on skates once more, so impatient 
to dart at once into the very heart of Broek, that they spun 
and wheeled about like crazy fellows, relieving themselves, 
meantime, by muttering something about “ Peter and donder ” 
not worth translating. 

Even Lambert and Ben, who had been waiting at the street- 
corner, began to grow impatient. 


or. The Silver Skates 


247 


The captain joined them at last. They were soon on the 
canal with the rest. 



Hurry up, Peter!” 
growled Ludwig. “ We ’re 
freezing by inches — there ! 

1 knew you ’d be the last, 
after all, to get on your 
skates ! ” 

‘‘ Did you ? ” said his 
brother, looking up with 
an air of deep interest — 

“ clever boy ! ” 

Ludwig laughed, but tried 
to look cross, as he said, 

I ’m in earnest, anyhow. 

We must get home some 
time this year.” 

Now, boys ! ” cried 
Peter, springing up, as he 
fastened the last buckle. 

“ There ’s a clear way 
before us. We will im- 
agine it ’s the grand race. 

Ready ! One, two, three, 
start ! ” 

I assure you very little 
was said for the fiist half- pe^er bidding his sister good-by. 
hour. They were six 

Mercuries skimming the ice. In plain English, they went like 
lightning. No, that is imaginary too. The fact is, one 
cannot decide what to say when half a dozen boys are whizzing 


248 


Hans Brinker 


past at such a rate. I can only tell you that each did his 
best, flying, with bent body and eager eyes, in and out among 
the placid skaters on the canal, until the very guard shouted 
to them to “ Hold up ! ” This only served to send them 
onward with a two-boy power that startled all beholders. 

But the laws of inertia are stronger even than canal-guards. 

After a while, Jacob slackened his speed, then Ludwig, then 
Lambert, then Carl. 

They soon halted to take a long breath, and, finally, found 
themselves standing in a group, gazing after Peter and Ben, 
who were still racing in the distance as if their lives were at 
stake. 

‘‘ It is very evident,” said Lambert, as he and his three com- 
panions started on again, that neither of them will give up if 
he can help it.” 

“ What foolishness ! ” growled Carl, “ to tire themselves at 
the beginning of the journey. But they ’re racing in earnest, 
that ’s certain. Halloo ! Peter ’s flagging ! ” 

“ Not so ! ” cried Ludwig. “ Catch him being beaten ! ” 

“ Ha, ha ! ” sneered Carl. “ I tell you, boy, Benjamin is 

ahead.” 

Now, if Ludwig disliked anything in this world, it was to be 
called a boy — probably because he was nothing else. He 
grew indignant at once. 

‘‘ Humph ! what arey<9w, I wonder There, sir ! now look 
and see if Peter isn’t ahead ! ” 

‘‘/think he /V,” interposed Lambert j “but I can’t quite 
tell at this distance.” 

“ / think he isn’t ! ” retorted Carl. 

Jacob was growing anxious. He always abhorred an argu- 
ment j so he said coaxingly, “ Don’t quarrel, don’t quarrel ! ” 


1 


or, The Silver Skates 


249 


“ Don’t quarrel ! ” mocked Carl, looking back at Jacob as 
he skated. “ Who ’s quarrelling ? Foot, you ’re a goose ! ” 

“ I can’t help that,” was Jacob’s meek reply. See ! they 
are nearing the turn of the canal.” 

“ Now we can see ! ” cried Ludwig, in great excitement. 

“ Peter will make it first, I know.’ 

“ He can’t ; for Ben is ahead ! ” insisted Carl. ‘‘ Gunst ! 
That ice-boat will run over him. No, he is clear I Thev ’re 
a couple of geese, anyhow. Hurrah, they are at the turn ! 
Now who ’s ahead ” 

Peter ! ” cried Ludwig, joyfully. 

“Good for the captain ! ” shouted Lambert and Jacob. 

And Carl condescended to mutter, — 

“ It is Peter, after all. I thought, all the time, that head 
fellow was Ben.” 

This turn in the canal had evidently been their goal ; for 
the two racers came to a sudden halt after passing it. 

Carl said something about being “ glad that they had sense 
enough to stop and rest ; ” and the four boys skated on in 
silence to overtake their companions. 

All the while, Carl was secretly wishing that he had kept on 
with Peter and Ben, as he felt sure he could easily have come 
out winner. He was a very rapid, though by no means a 
graceful skater. 

Ben was looking at Peter with mingled vexation, admiration 
and surprise, as the boys drew near. 

They heard him saying in English, — 

“ You’re a perfect bird on the ice, Peter van Holp. The 
first fellow that ever beat me in a fair race, I can tell you ! ” 

Peter, who understood the language better than he could 
speak it, returned a laughing bow at Ben’s compliment, but 


250 


Hans Brinker 


made no further reply. Possibly he was scant of breath at 
the time. 

Now, Penchamin, vat you do mit youself? Get so hot 
as a fire-brick: dat ish no goot,” was Jacob’s plaintive 
comment. 

Nonsense ! ” answered Ben. “ This frosty air will cool 
me soon enough. ‘I am not tired.” 

You are beaten, though, my boy,” said Lambert, in Eng- 
lish, “ and fairly too. How will it be, I wonder, on the day 
of the grand race ? ” 

Ben flushed ; and as he sailed off, looking back rather 
wearily, he gave a proud, defiant laugh, as if to say, — 

This was mere pastime. I ’m determined to beat then, 
come what mav.” 


or. The Silver Skates 


251 


XXXI 

BOYS AND GIRLS 

B y the time the boys reached the village of Voorhout, 
which stands near the grand canal, about half-way 
between the Hague and Haarlem, they were forced to hold a 
council. The wind, though moderate at first, had grown 
stronger and stronger, until at last they could hardly skate 
against it. The weather-vanes throughout the country had 
evidently entered into a conspiracy. 

‘‘ No use trying to face such a blow as this,” said Ludwig. 
It cuts its way down a man’s throat like a knife.” 

“ Keep your mouth shut, then,” grunted the affable Carl, 
who was strong-chested as a young ox. “ I ’m for keeping 
on.” 

“ In this case,” interposed Peter, “ we must consult the 
weakest of the party, rather than the strongest.” 

The captain’s principle was all right ; but its application 
was not flattering to Master Ludwig. Shrugging his shoul- 
ders, he retorted, — 

‘‘ Who ’s weak ? Not I, for one. But the wind ’s stronger 
than, any of us. I hope you ’ll condescend to admit that.” 

“ Ha, ha!” laughed Van Mounen, who could barely keep 
his feet. “ So it is.” 

Just then the weather-vanes telegraphed to each other by a 
peculiar twitch, and in an instant the gust came. It nearly 


252 


Hans Brinker 


threw the strong-chested Carl : it almost strangled Jacob, and 


quite upset Ludwig. 


“ This settles the question,” shouted Peter. ‘‘ Off with 
your skates ! We ’ll go into Voorhout.” 

At Voorhout they found a little inn with a big yard. The 
yard was well bricked, and, better than all, was provided with 


a complete set of 
skittles : so our 
boys soon turned 
the detention into 
a frolic. The 
wind was trouble- 
some, even in that 
sheltered quarter ; 
but they were on 
good standing- 
ground, and did 
not mind it. 



First a hearty 
dinner, then the 


A GUST OF WIND. 


game. With pins as long as their arms, and balls as big as 
their heads, plenty of strength left for rolling, and a clean 
sweep of sixty feet for the strokes, no wonder they were 
happy. 

That night Captain Peter and his men slept soundly. No 
prowling robber came to disturb them ; and, as they were dis- 
tributed in separate rooms, they did not even have a bolster- 
battle in the morning. 

Such a breakfast as they ate ! The landlord looked 
frightened. When he had asked them where they “ be- 
longed,” he made up his mind that the Broek people starved 


or. The Silver Skates 253 

their children. It was a shame, ‘‘ Such fine young gentlemen 
too ! ” 

Fortunately the wind had tired itself out, and fallen asleep 
in the great sea-cradle beyond the Dunes. There were signs 
of snow : otherwise, the weather was fine. 



PLAYING SKITTLES. 

It was mere child’s play for the well-rested boys to skate to 
Leyden. Here they halted a while : for Peter had an errand 
at the Golden Eagle. He left the city with a lightened 
heart. Dr. Boekman had been at the hotel, read the note 
containing Hans’s message, and departed for Broek. 

I cannot say it was your letter sent him off so soon,” 
explained the landlord. “ Some rich lady in Broek was taken 
bad very sudden ; and he was sent for in haste.” 

Peter turned pale. 



254 


H ans Brinker 


‘‘ What was the name ? ” he asked. 

“ Indeed, it went in one ear, and out of the other, for all 1 
hindered it. Plague to people who can’t see a traveller in 
comfortable lodgings, but they must whisk him olF before one 
can breathe ! ” 

“ A lady in Broek, did you say .? ” 

‘‘ Yes,” very gruffly. Any other business, young master .? ” 
No, mine host, except that I and my comrades here 
would like a bite of something, and a drink of hot coffee.” 

‘‘ Ah ! ” said the landlord, sweetly. “ A bite you shall have, 
and coffee too, — the finest in Leyden. Walk up to the 
stove, my 'masters. Now J think again, that was a widow- 
lady from Rotterdam, I think they said, visiting at one Van 
Stoepel’s, if I mistake not.” 

‘‘Ah!” said Peter, greatly, relieved. “They live in the 
white house bv the Schlossen Mill. Now, mynheer, the 
coffee, please.” 

“ What a goose I was ! ” thought he, as the party left the 
Golden Eagle, “ to feel so sure it was my mother. But she 
may be somebody’s mother, poor woman, for all that. Who 
can she be, I wonder ? ” 

There were not many upon the canal that day, between 
Leyden and Haarlem. However, as the boys neared Amster- 
dam, they found themselves once more in the midst of a 
moving throng. The big Tshreeker ^ had been at work for 
the first time that season ; but there was any amount of 
skating-ground left yet. 

^ Tce-brtaker. A heavy machine, armed v\dth iron spikes, for break- 
ing the ice as It Is dragged along. Some of the small ones are worked by 
men ; but the large ones are drawn by horses, sixty or seventy of which 
are sometimes attached to one Tshreeker. 


or. The Silver Skates 255 

“Three cheers for home!” cried Van Mounen, as they 
came in sight of the great Western Dock {JVesfelijk Dok). 
“ Hurrah, hurrah ! ” shouted one and all. “ Hurrah, hurrah ! ” 

This trick of cheering was an importation among our 
party. Lambert van Mounen had brought it from England. 
As they always gave it in English, it was considered quite an 
exploit, and, when circumstances permitted, always enthusi- 
astically performed, to the sore dismay of their quiet-loving 
countrymen. 

Therefore their arrival at Amsterdam created a great sensa- 
tion, especially among the small boys on the wharves. 

The Y was crossed. They were on the Broek Canal. 

Lambert’s home was reached first. 

“Good-by, boys!” he cried, as he left them. “We’ve 
had the greatest frolic ever known in Holland.” 

“So we have. Good-by, Van Mounen!” answered the 
boys. 

“ Good-by ! ” 

Peter hailed him. “ I say. Van Mounen, the classes begin 
to-morrow ! ” 

“ I know it. Our holiday is over. Good-by, Ben ! ” 

“ Good-by ! ” shouted Ben, somewhat sadly, for he hated to 
see the pleasant party breaking up. 

Broek came in sight. Such meetings ! Katrinka was on 
the canal. Carl was delighted. Hilda was there. Peter felt 
rested in an instant. Rychie was there. Ludwig and Jacob 
nearly knocked each other over in their eagerness to shake 
hands with her. 

Dutch girls are modest, and generally quiet ; but they have 
very glad eyes. For a few moments, it was hard to decide 
whether Hilda, Rychie or Katrinka, felt the most happy. 


256 


Hans Brinker 


Annie Bouman was also on the canal, looking even prettier 
than the other maidens, in her graceful peasant’s costume. 
But she did not mingle with Rychie’s party j neither did she 
look unusually happy. 

The one she liked most to see was not among the new- 
comers. Indeed, he was not upon the canal at all. She had 
not been near Broek before, since the Eve of St. Nicholas ; 
for she was staying with her sick grandmother in Amsterdam, 
and had been granted a brief resting-spell, as the grandmother 
called it, because she had been such a faithful little nurse 
night and day. 

Annie had devoted her resting-spell to skating with all her 
might toward Broek, and back again, in the hope of meeting 
her mother, or some of her family, on the canal ; or, it might 
be, Gretel Brinker. Not one of them had she seen ; and she 
must hurry back without even catching a glimpse of her 
mother’s cottage ; for the poor, helpless grandmother, she 
knew, was by this time moaning for some one to turn her 
upon her cot. 

“ Where can Gretel be ? ” thought Annie, as she flew over 
the ice. ‘‘ She can almost always steal a few moments from 
her work at this time of day. Poor Gretel ! What a dread- 
ful thing it must be to have a dull father ! I should be 
wofully afraid of him, I know, — so strong, and yet so 
strange ! ” 

Annie had not heard of his illness. Dame Brinker and 
her affairs received but little notice from the people of the 
place. 

If Gretel had not been known as a goose-girl, she might 
have had more friends among the peasantry of the neighbor- 
hood. As it was, Annie Bouman was the only one who did 



GRETEL TENDING GEESE 



1 


I 

1 


or. The Silver Skates 259 

not feel ashamed to avow herself by word and deed the 
companion of Gretel and Hans. 

When the neighbors’ children laughed at her for keeping 
such poor company, she would simply flush when Hans was 
ridiculed, or laugh in a careless, disdainful way. But to hear 
little Gretel abused always awakened her wrath. 

Goose-girl, indeed 1 ” she would say, I can tell you 
any of you are fitter for the work than she. My father 
often said, last summer, that it troubled him to see such a 
bright-eyed, patient little maiden tending geese. Humph ! 
She would not harm them, as you would, Janzoon Kolp ; 
and she would not tread upon them, as you might, Kate 
Wouters.” 

This would be pretty sure to start a laugh at the clumsy, 
ill-natured Kate’s expense ; and Annie would walk loftily away 
from the group of young gossips. Perhaps some memory of 
Gretel’s assailants crossed her mind as she skated rapidly 
toward Amsterdam ; for her eyes sparkled ominously, and she 
more than once gave her pretty head a defiant toss. When 
that mood passed, such a bright, rosy, affectionate look illu- 
mined her face, that more than one weary workingman turned 
to gaze after her, and to wish that he had a glad, contented 
lass like that for a daughter. 

There were five joyous households in Broek that night. 

The boys were back safe and sound ; and they found all 
well at home. Even the sick lady at neighbor Van Stoepel’s 
was out of danger. 

But the next morning. Ah, how stupidly school-bells will 
ding-dong, ding-dong, when one is tired. 

Ludwig was sure he had never listened to anything so 


26 o 


Hans Brinker 


odious. Even Peter felt pathetic on the occasion. Carl said 
it was a shame for a fellow to have to turn out when his 
bones were splitting. And Jacob soberly bade Ben “ Goot- 
py ! ” and walked olF with his satchel as if it weighed a 
hundred pounds. 


or, The Silver Skates 


261 


XXXII 

THE CRISIS 

W HILE the boys are nursing their fatigue, we will take 
a peep into the Brinker cottage. 

Can it be that Gretel and her mother have not stirred since 
we saw them last ? that the sick man upon the bed has not 
even turned over? It was four days ago; and there is the 
sad group just as it was before. No, not precisely the same ; 
for RalF Brinker is paler : his fever is gone, though he knows 
nothing of what is passing. Then they were alone in the 
bare, clean room. Now there is another group in an opposite 
corner. 

Dr. Boekman is there, talking in a low tone with a stout 
young man, who listens intently. The stout young man is 
his student and assistant. Hans is there also. He stands near 
the window, respectfully waiting until he shall be accosted. 

You see, Vollenhoven,” said Dr. Boekman, “it is a clear 
case of — ” and here the doctor went off into a queer jumble 
of Latin and Dutch that I cannot conveniently translate. 

After a while, as Vollenhoven looked at him rather blankly, 
the learned man condescended to speak to him in simpler 
phrase. 

“ It is probably like Rip Donderdunck’s case,” he explained 
in a low, mumbling tone. “ He fell from the top of Voppel- 
ploot’s windmill. After the accident, the man was stupid. 


262 


Hans Brinker 


and finally became idiotic. In time, he lay helpless, like yon 
fellow on the bed ; moaned, too, like him, and kept con- 
stantly lifting his hand to his head. My learned friend Von 
Choppem performed an operation upon this Donderdunck, and 
discovered under the skull a small dark sac, which pressed 
upon the brain. This had been the cause of the trouble. 
My friend Von Choppem removed it — a splendid operation ! 
You see, according to Celsus — ” and here the doctor again 
went off into Latin. 

Did the man live ? ” asked the assistant, respectfully. 

Dr. Boekman scowled. That is of no consequence. I 
believe he died. But why not fix your mind on the grand 
features of the case ? Consider a moment how — ” and he 
plunged into Latin mysteries more deeply than ever. 

But, mynheer,” gently persisted the student, who knew 
that the doctor would not rise to the surface for hours, unless 
pulled at once from his favorite depths, — mynheer, you 
have other engagements to-day : three legs in Amsterdam, you 
remember, an eye in Broek, and that tumor up the canal.” 

“ The tumor can wait,” said the doctor, reflectively. “ That 
is another beautiful case — a beautiful case! The woman 
has not lifted her head from her shoulder for two months. 
Magnificent tumor, sir I ” 

The doctor, by this time, was speaking aloud. He had 
quite forgotten where he was. 

Vollenhoven made another attempt. 

“ This poor fellow on the bed, mynheer. Do you think 
you can save him ? ” 

“ Ah, indeed, certainly,” stammered the doctor, suddenly 
perceiving that he had been talking rather off the point, — 
“ certainly ; that is — I hope so.” 



THE MEESTER CONFERS WITH HIS ASSISTANT. 









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or. The Silver Skates 265 

“ If any one in Holland can, mynheer,” murmured the 
assistant with honest bluntness, it is yourself.” 

The doctor looked displeased, growled out a tender request 
for the student to talk less, and beckoned Hans to draw near. 

This strange man had a great horror of speaking to women, 
especially on surgical matters. ‘‘ One can never tell,” he 
said, what moment the creatures will scream or faint.” 
Therefore he explained Raff Drinker’s case to Hans, and told 
him what he believed should be done to save the patient. 

Hans listened attentively, growing red and pale by turns, 
and throwing quick, anxious glances toward the bed. 

‘‘ It may kill the father, did you say, mynheer ! ” he 
exclaimed at last, in a trembling whisper. 

“ It may, my boy. But I have a strong belief that it will 
cure, and not kill. Ah, if boys were not such dunces ! I 
could lay the whole matter before you^j but it would be of 
no use.” 

Hans looked blank at this compliment. 

‘‘ It would be of no use,” repeated Dr. Boekman, indig- 
nantly. ‘‘ A great operation is proposed ; but one might as 
well do it with a hatchet. The only question asked is, ‘ Will 
it kill .? ’ ” 

“ The question is everything to us, mynheer,” said Hans, 
with tearful dignity. 

Dr. Boekman looked at him in sudden dismay. 

‘‘ Ah, exactly so ! You are right, boy : I am a fool ! 
Good boy. One does not wish one’s father killed, — of 
course not. I am a fool ! ” 

“ Will he die, mynheer, if this sickness goes on ” 

Humph ! This is no new illness. The same thing 
growing worse every instant, — pressure on the brain. Will 


266 


Hans Brinker 



‘THE QUESTION IS EVERYTHING 7 0 US, MYNHEER.’ 


take him ofF soon, like that^'" said the doctor, snapping his 
fingers. 

‘‘ And the operation may save him,” pursued Hans. ‘‘ How 
soon, mynheer, can we know ” 


or, The Silver Skates 


267 


Dr. Boekman grew impatient. 

“In a day — perhaps an hour. Talk with your mother, 
boy, and let her decide. My time is short.” 

Hans approached his mother. At first, when she looked 
up at him, he could not utter a syllable ; then, turning his 
eyes away, he said in a firm voice, — 

“ I must speak with the mother alone.” 

Quick little Gretel, who could not quite understand what 
was passing, threw rather an indignant look at Hans, and 
walked away. 

“ Come back, Gretel, and sit down,” said Hans, sorrow- 
fully. 

She obeyed. 

Dame Blinker and her boy stood by the window, while the 
doctor and his assistant, bending over the bedside, conversed 
together in a low tone. There was no danger of disturbing 
the patient. He appeared like one blind and deaf. Only his 
faint, piteous moans showed him to be a living man. Hans 
was talking earnestly, and in a low voice ; for he did not wish 
his sister to hear. 

With dry, parted lips Dame Brinker leaned toward him, 
searching his face, as if suspecting a meaning beyond his 
words. Once she gave a quick, frightened sob that made 
Gretel start, but, after that, listened calmly. 

When Hans ceased to speak, his mother turned, gave one 
long, agonized look at her husband, lying there so pale and 
unconscious, and threw herself on her knees, beside the bed. 

Poor little Gretel ! what did all this mean ? She looked 
with questioning eyes at Hans, he was standing, but his head 
was bent as if in prayer ; at the doctor, he was gently feeling 
her father’s head, and looked like one examining some curious 


268 


H ans Brinker 


stone ; at the assistant, the man coughed, and turned away ; 
at her mother, — ah ! little Gretel, that was the best you 
could do, — to kneel beside her, and twine your warm young 
arms about her neck ; to weep, and implore God to listen. 

When the mother arose. Dr. Boekman, with a show of 
trouble in his eyes, asked gruffly, jufvrouw^ shall it 

be done t ” 

Will it pain him, mynheer \ ” she asked in a trembling 
voice. 

“ I cannot say. Probably not. Shall it be done ? ” 

“ It may cure him, you said, and, mynheer — did you .tell 
my boy that — perhaps — perhaps — ” she could not finish. 

“ Yes, jufvrouw^ I said the patient might sink under the 
operation ; but we will hope it may prove otherwise.” He 
looked at his watch. The assistant moved impatiently toward 
the window. “ Comt ^ jufvrouw ^ time presses. Yes, or no ” 

Hans wound his arm about his mother. It was not his usual 
way. He even leaned his head against her shoulder. 

The ineester awaits an answer,” he whispered. 

Dame Brinker had long been the head of her house in every 
sense. Many a time she had been verv stern with Hans, rul- 
ing him with a strong hand, and rejoicing in her motherly 
discipline : yiozv she felt so weak, so helpless. It was some- 
thing to feel that firm embrace. T here was strength even in 
the touch of that yellow hair. 

She turned to her bov imploringly. 

“ O Hans ! What shall I say ? ” 

“ Say what God tells thee, mother,” answered Hans, bow- 
ing his head. 

One quick, questioning prayer to Heaven rose from the 
mother’s heart. The answer came. 


or, The Silver Skates 


269 


She turned toward Dr. Boekman. 

“ It is right, mynheer. I consent.” 

‘‘ Humph ! ” grunted the doctor, as if to say, “ You’ve been 
long enough about it.” Then he conferred a moment with 
his assistant, who listened with great outward deference, but 



“IT IS RIGHT, MYNHEER. I CONSENT.” 


was inwardly rejoicing at the grand joke he would have to tell 
his fellow-students. He had actually seen a tear in “ old 
Bookman’s ” eye. 

Meanwhile Gretel looked on in trembling silence; but 
when she saw the doctor open a leathern case, and take out 


270 


Hans Brinker 


one sharp, gleaming instrument after another, she sprang 
forward. 

“ O mother ! the poor father meant no wrong. Are they 
going to murder him ? ” 

‘‘ I do not know, child ! ” screamed Dame Brinker, looking 
fiercely at Gretel, — ‘‘ I do not know.” 

‘‘ This will not do, jufvrouw^'^ said Dr. Boekman, sternly, 
and at the same time he cast a quick, penetrating look at 
Hans. ‘‘You and the girl must leave the room. The boy 
may stay.” 

Dame Brinker drew herself up in an instant. Her eyes 
flashed. Her whole countenance was changed. She looked 
like one who had never wept, never felt a moment’s weakness. 
Her voice was low, but decided. “ I stay with my husband, 
mynheer.” 

Dr. Boekman looked astonished. His orders were seldom 
disregarded in this style. For an instant his eye met hers. 

“ You may remain, he said in an altered voice. 

Gretel had already disappeared. 

In one corner of the cottage was a small closet, where her 
rough, box-like bed was fastened against the wall. None 
would think of the trembling little creature crouching there in 
the dark. 

Dr. Boekman took off his heavy coat. He filled an earthen 
basin with water, and placed it near the bed. Then, turning 
to Hans, he asked, — 

“ Can I depend upon you, boy ? ” 

“ You can, mynheer.” 

“ I believe you. Stand at the head, here : your mother 
may sit at your right, — so.” And he placed a chair near the 
cot. 


or. The Silver Skates 


271 


“ Remember, there must be no cries, no fainting.” 

Dame Brinker answered him with a look. 

He was satisfied. 

“ Now, Vollenhoven.” 

Oh that case with the terrible instruments ! The assistant 
lifted them. Gretel, who had been peering with brimming 
eyes through the crack of the closet-door, could remain silent 
no longer. 

She rushed frantically across the apartment, seized her hood, 
and ran from the cottage. 


272 


Hans Brinker 


XXXIII 

GRETEL AND HILDA 

I T was recess-hour. At the first stroke of the schoolhouse-^ 
bell, the canal seemed to give a tremendous shout, and 
grow suddenly alive with boys and girls. The sly thing, 
shining so quietly under the noonday sun, was a kaleidoscope 
at heart, and only needed a shake from that great clapper to 
start it into dazzling changes. 

Dozens of gayly-clad children were skating in and out among 
each other; and all their pent-up merriment of the morning 
was relieving itself in song and shout and laughter. There 
was nothing to check the flow of frolic. Not a thought of 
school-books came out with them into the sunshine. Latin, 
arithmetic, grammar, all were locked up for an hour in the 
dingy schoolroom. The teacher might be a noun, if he 
wished, and a proper one at that ; but they meant to enjoy 
themselves. As long as the skating was as perfect as this, it 
made no difference whether Holland were on the north pole or 
the equator. And, as for philosophy, how could they bother 
themselves about inertia and gravitation and such things, when 
it was as much as they could do to keep from getting knocked 
over in the commotion ? 

In the height of the fun, one of the children called out, — 

“ What is that ? ” 

“ What Where ? ” cried a dozen voices. 


or, The Silver Skates 273 

‘‘ Why — don’t you see ? That dark thing over there by 
the idiot’s cottage.” 

“ I don’t see anything,” said one. 

“ I do,” shouted another. “ It ’s a dog ! ” 

“ Where’s any dog ? ” put in a squeaky voice that we have 
heard before. ‘‘ It ’s no such thing : it ’s a heap of rags.” 

“ Pooh, Voost ! ” retorted another, gruffly. ‘‘ That ’s about 
as near the fact as you ever get. It ’s the goose-girl, Gretel, 
looking for rats.” 

“ Well, what of it ? ” squeaked Voost. ‘‘ Isn’t she a bundle 
of rags, I ’d like to know ” 

‘‘Ha, ha! Pretty good for you, Voost I You’ll get a 
medal for wit yet, if you keep on.” • 

“ You ’d get something else, if her brother Hans were here. 
I ’ll warrant you would ! ” said a muffled-up little fellow, with 
a cold in his head. 

As Hans was not there, Voost could afford to scout the 
insinuation. 

“ Who cares for him, little sneezer ? I ’d fight a dozen like 
him, any day, and you in the bargain.” 

“You would ! would you ? I’d like to catch you at it.” 
And, by way of proving his words, the sneezer skated off* at 
the top of his speed. 

Just then a general chase after three of the biggest boys of 
the school was proposed ; and friend and foe, frolicsome as 
ever, were soon united in a common cause. 

Only one of all that happy throng remembered the dark 
little form by the idiot’s cottage. Poor frightened Gretel ! 
She was not thinking of them, though their merry laughter 
floated lightly toward her, making her feel like one in a 
dream. 


274 Hans Brinker 

How loud the moans were behind the darkened window ! 
What if those strange men were really killing her father ! 

The thought made her spring to her feet with a cry of 
horror. 

“ Ah, no ! ” she sobbed, sinking upon the frozen mound of 
earth where she had been sitting, “ mother is there, and Hans. 
They will care for him. But how pale they were ! And 
even Hans was crying. 

“ Why did the cross old meester keep hitn^ and send me 
away? ” she thought. ‘H could have clung to the mother, and 
kissed her. That always makes her stroke my hair, and speak 
gently, even after she has scolded, me. How quiet it is now ! 
Oh if the father should die, and Hans, and the mother ! what 
would I do ? ” And Gretel, shivering with cold, buried her 
face in her arms, and cried as if her heart would break. 

The poor child had been tasked beyond her strength during 
the past four days. Through all, she had been her mother’s 
willing little handmaiden, soothing, helping and cheering the 
half-widowed woman by dav, and watching and praying beside 
her all the long night. She knew that something terrible and 
mysterious was taking place at this moment, — something that 
had been too terrible and mysterious for even kind, good Hans 
to tell. 

Then new thoughts came. Why had not Hans told her? 
It was a shame ! It was her father as well as his. She was 
no baby. She had once taken a sharp knife from the father’s 
hand. She had even drawn him away from the mother on 
that awful night when Hans, big as he was, could not help 
her. Whv, then, must she be treated like one who could do 
nothing ? Oh, how very still it was, how bitter, bitter cold ! 
If Annie Bouman had only stayed home, instead of going to 


or, The Silver Skates 


275 

Amsterdam, it wouldn’t be so lonely. How cold her feet 
were growing ! was it the moaning that made her feel as if 
she were floating in the air ? 

This would not do : the mother might need her help at any 
moment ! 

Rousing herself with an effort, Gretel sat upright, rubbing 
her eyes and wondering, — wondering that the sky was so 
bright and blue, — wondering at the stillness in the cottage, 
more than all, at the laughter rising and falling in the distance. 

Soon she sank down again, the strange medley of thought 
growing more and more confused in her bewildered brain. 

What a strange lip the meester had ! How the stork’s nest 
upon the roof seemed to rustle and whisper down to her ! 
How bright those knives were in the leathern case ! — brighter, 
perhaps, than the silver skates. If she had but worn her new 
jacket, she would not shiver so. The new jacket was pretty, 
— the only pretty thing she had ever worn. God had taken 
care of her father so long, he would do it still, if those two 
men would but go away. Ah, now the meesters were on the 
roof : they were clambering to the top — no, it was her 
mother and Hans, — or the storks — it was so dark, who 
could tell, and the mound rocking, swinging, in that strange 
way ? How sweetly the birds were singing ! They must 
be winter birds; for the air was thick with icicles — not 
one bird, but twenty. Oh ! hear them, mother ; wake me, 
mother, for the race ; I am so tired with crying, and crying — 

A firm hand was laid upon her shoulder. 

‘‘ Get up, little girl ! ” cried a kind voice. “ This will not 
do, for you to lie here and freeze.” 

Gretel slowly raised her head. She was so sleepy, that it 
seemed nothing strange to her that Hilda van Gleck should 


Hans Brinker 


276 

be leaning over her, looking with kind, beautiful eyes into her 
face. She had often dreamed it before. 



HILDA AND GRETEL AT THE COTTAGE. 


But she had never dreamed that Hilda was shaking her 
roughly, almost dragging her by main force ; never dreamed 
that she heard her saying, “ Gretel Brinker, you must wake ! ” 


or, The Silver Skates 


277 


This was real. Gretel looked up. Still the lovely, delicate 
young lady was shaking, rubbing, fairly pounding her. It 
must be a dream. No, there was the cottage, and the stork’s 
nest, and the meester*s coach by the canal. She could see 
them now quite plainly. Her hands were tingling, her feet 
throbbing: Hilda was forcing her to walk. 

At last Gretel began to feel like herself again. 

I have been asleep,” she faltered, rubbing her eyes with 
both hands, and looking very much ashamed. 

‘‘ Yes, indeed ! entirely too much asleep,” laughed Hilda, 
whose lips were very pale. “ But you are well enough now. 
Lean upon me, Gretel. There, keep moving, you will soon 
be warm enough to go by the fire. Now let me take you 
into the cottage.” 

‘‘ Oh, no, no, no^jufvrouw ; not in there ! The mecster is 
there. He sent me away.” 

Hilda was puzzled ; but she wisely forbore to ask at 
present for an explanation. ‘‘Very well, Gretel, try to walk 
faster. I saw you upon the mound some time ago ; but I 
thought you were playing : that is right, keep moving.” 

All this time the kind-hearted girl had been forcing Gretel 
to walk up and down, supporting her with one arm, and with 
the other striving, as well as she could, to take off her own 
warm sack. But Gretel suddenly suspected her intention. 

“ O jufvrouw^ jufvrouw ! ” she cried imploringly. “ Please 
never think of such a thing as that ! Oh ! please keep it on. 
I am burning all jufurouw ! I really am burning. Not 

burning, exactly, but pins and needles pricking all over me. 
O jufvrouw^ don’t ! ” 

The poor child’s dismay was so genuine, that Hilda hastened 
to reassure her. 


Hans Brinker 


278 

Very well, Gretel, move your arms then, so. Why, your 
cheeks are as pink as roses already. 1 think the meester would 
let you in now ; he certainly would. Is your father so very 
ill ? ” 

‘‘ jufvrouw^^' cried Gretel, weeping afresh, “ he is dying, 
I think. There are two meesters in with him at this moment ; 
and the mother has scarce spoken to-day. Can you hear him 
moan, jufvrouiu f ” she added with sudden terror : “ the air 
buzzes so I cannot hear. He may be dead ! Oh, I do wish 
I could hear him ! ” 

Hilda listened. The cottage was very near, but not a 
sound could be heard. 

Something told her that Gretel was right. She ran to the 
window. 

‘‘You cannot see there, my lady,” sobbed Gretel, eagerly; 
“ the mother has oiled paper hanging inside. But at the 
other one, in the south end of the cottage, you can look in 
where the paper is torn.” 

Hilda, in her anxiety, ran round past the corner where the 
low roof was fringed with its loosened thatch. 

A sudden thought checked her. 

“ It is not right for me to peep into another’s house in this 
way,” she said to herself ; then, softly calling to Gretel, she 
added in a whisper, “You may look; perhaps he is only 
sleeping.” 

Gretel tried to walk briskly toward the spot ; but her limbs 
were trembling. Hilda hastened to her support. 

“ You are sick, yourself, I fear,” she said kindly. 

“No, not sick^ jufvrouw ; but my heart cries all the time 
now, even when my eyes are as dry as yours. Why, 
iufvrouw^ your eyes are not dry ! Are you crying for us ? 


or, The Silver Skates 


279 



O jufvrouw^ if God sees you ! Oh, I know father will get 
better now ! ” and the little creature, even while reaching to 
look through the tiny window, kissed Hilda’s hand again and 
again. 

The sash was sadly 
patched and broken ; a 
torn piece of paper hung 
half way down across it. 

Gretel’s face was pressed 
to the window. 

Can you see any- 
thing ” whispered Hilda 
at last. 

Yes ; the father lies 
very still, his head is ban- 
daged, and all their eyes 
are fastened upon him. 

O jufvrouw ! ” almost 
screamed Gretel, as she 
started back, and, by a 
quick, dexterous move- 
ment, shook off her heavy 

“CAN YOU SEE ANYTHING?” 

wooden shoes, I must go 

in to my mother. Will you come with me ? ” 

Not now, the bell is ringing. I shall come again soon. 
Good-by.” 

Gretel scarce heard the words. She remembered, for many 
a day afterward, the bright, pitying smile on Hilda’s face as 
she turned away. 


28 o 


Hans Brinker 


XXXIV 


THE AWAKENING 


N angel could not have entered the cottage more nolse- 



xV lessly. Gretel, not daring to look at any one, slid 
softly to her mother’s side. 

The room was very still. She could hear the old doctor 
breathe. She could almost hear the sparks as they fell into 
the ashes on the hearth. The mother’s hand was very cold ; 
but a burning spot glowed on her cheek j and her eyes were 
like a deer’s, so bright, so sad, so eager. 

At last there was a movement upon the bed, very slight, 
but enough to cause them all to start. Dr. Boekman leaned 
eagerly forward. 

Another movement. The large hand, so white and soft 
for a poor man’s hand, twitched, then raised itself steadily 
toward the forehead. 

It felt the bandage, not in a restless, crazy way, but with a 
questioning movement, that caused even Dr. Boekman to 
hold his breath. Then the eyes opened slowly. 

‘‘ Steady, steady ! ” said a voice that sounded very strange 
to Gretel. “ Shift that mat higher, boys ! Now throw on 
the clay. The waters are rising fast ; no time to — ” 

Dame Brinker sprang forward like a young panther. 

She seized his hands, and, leaning over him, cried, “ Raff, 
Raff, boy, speak to me ! ” 



RAFF BRINKER S AWAKENING 







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or, The Silver Skates 283 

‘‘ Is it you, Meitje ? ” he asked faintly. “ I have been 
asleep, hurt, I think. Where is little Hans? ” 

‘‘ Here I am, father ! ’’ shouted Hans, half mad with joy. 
But the doctor held him back. 

He knows us ! ” screamed Dame Brinker. “ Great God ! 
he knows us ! Gretel, Gretel, come see your father ! ” 

In vain Dr. Boekman commanded ^‘silence ! ” and tried to 
force them from the bedside. He could not keep them off. 

Hans and his mother laughed and cried together as they 
hung over the newly awakened man. Gretel made no sound, 
but gazed at them all with glad, startled eyes. Her father 
was speaking in a faint voice, — 

“ Is the baby asleep, Meitje ? ” 

The baby ! ” echoed Dame Brinker. ‘‘ O Gretel, that is 
you ! And he calls Hans, ‘ little Hans.’ Ten years asleep ! 
O mvnheer ! you have saved us all. He has known nothing 
for ten years. Children, why don’t you thank the meester? ” 
The good woman was beside herself with joy. Dr. Boek- 
man said nothing ; but, as his eyes met hers, he pointed 
upward. She understood. So did Hans and Gretel. 

With one accord they knelt by the cot, side by side. Dame 
Brinker felt for her husband’s hand even while she was pray- 
ing. Dr. Boekman’s head was bowed. The assistant stood 
by the hearth with his back toward them. 

“ Why do you pray ? ” murmured the father, looking feebly 
from the bed as they rose. “ Is it God’s day ? ” 

It was not Sunday ; but his vrouw bowed her head : she 
could not speak. 

‘‘ Then we should have a chapter,” said Raff Brinker, 
speaking with difficulty. “ I do not know how it is. I am 
very, very weak. Mayhap the minister will read to us ? ” 


284 


H ans Brinker 


Gretel lifted the big Dutch Bible from its carved shelf. 
Dr. Boekman, rather dismayed at being called a minister, 
coughed, and handed the volume to his assistant. 

“ Read,” he muttered. “ These people must be kept quiet, 
or the man will die yet.” 

When the chapter was finished. Dame Brinker motioned 
mysteriously to the rest, by way of telling them that her 
husband was asleep. 

“ Now, jufvrouw^' said the doctor, in a subdued tone, as 
he drew on his thick woollen mittens, “ there must be perfect 
quiet. You understand. This is truly a most remarkable 
case. I shall come again to-morrow. Give the patient no 
food to-day ; ” and, bowing hastily, he left the cottage, fol- 
lowed by his assistant. 

His grand coach was not far away. The driver had kept 
the horses moving slowly up and down by the canal, nearly 
all the time the doctor had been in the cottage. 

Hans went out also. 

“ May God bless you, mynheer ! ” he said, blushing and 
trembling, “ I can never repay you ; but if — ” 

“ Yes, you can,” interrupted the doctor, crossly. You can 
use your wits when the patient wakes again. This clack- 
ing and snivelling is enough to kill a well man, let alone 
one lying on the edge of his grave. If you want your 
father to get well, keep ’em quiet. ” 

So saying. Dr. Boekman, without another word, stalked 
off to meet his coach, leaving Hans standing there with 
eyes and mouth wide open. 

Hilda was reprimanded severelv that day for returning 
late to school after recess, and for imperfect recitations. 


or. The Silver Skates 285 

She had remained near the cottage until she heard Dame 
Brinker laugh, until she had heard Hans say, ‘‘ Here I 
am, father ! ” and then she had gone back to her lessons. 
What wonder that she missed them ! How could she get 
a long string of Latin verbs by heart, when her heart did 
not care a fig for them, but would keep saying to itself, 
“ Oh ! I am so glad, I am so glad ! ” 


286 


Hans Brinker 


XXXV 

BONES AND TONGUES 

B ones are strange things. One would suppose that 
they knew nothing at all about school-affairs ; but they 
do. Even Jacob Foot’s bones, buried as they were in flesh, 
were sharp in the matter of study-hours. 

Early on the morning of his return, they ached through and 
through, giving Jacob a twinge at every stroke of the school- 
bell, as if to say, Stop that clapper ! There ’s trouble in it.” 
After school, on the contrary, they were quiet and comfort- 
able ; in fact, seemed to be taking a nap among their cushions. 

The other boys’ bones behaved in a similar manner ; but 
that is not so remarkable. Being nearer the daylight than 
Jacob’s, they might be expected to be more learned in the 
ways of the world. Master Ludwig’s, especially, were like 
beauty, only skin deep ; they were the most knowing bones 
you ever heard of. Just put before him, e;ver so quietly, a 
grammar-book, with a long lesson marked in it, and immedi- 
ately the sly bone over his eyes would set up such an aching ! 
Request him to go to the garret for your foot-stove, instantly 
the bones would remind him that he was “ too tired.” Ask 
him to go to the confectioner’s, a mile away, and presto ! not 
a bone would remember that it ever had been used before. 

Bearing all this in mind, you will not wonder when I tell 
you that our five boys were among the happiest of the happy 
throng pouring forth from the schoolhouse that day. 


or. The Silver Skates 


287 

Peter was in excellent spirits. He had heard, through Hilda, 
of Dame Brinker’s laugh and of Hans’ joyous words ; and he 
needed no further proof that RalF Brinker was a cured man. 
In fact, the news had gone forth in every direction for miles 
around. Persons who had never before cared for the Brinkers, 
or even mentioned them, except with a contemptuous sneer, 
or a shrug of pretended pity, now became singularly familiar 
with every point of their history. There was no end to the 
number of ridiculous stories that were flying about. 

Hilda, in the excitement of the moment, had stopped to ex- 
change a word with the doctor’s coachman as he stood by the 
horses, pommelling his chest, and clapping his hands. Her 
kind heart was overflowing. She could not help pausing to 
tell the cold, tired-looking man, that she thought the doctor 
would be out soon : she even hinted to him that she suspected, 
only suspected, that a wonderful cure had been performed, — 
an idiot brought to his senses. Nay, she was sure of it ; for 
she had heard his widow laugh — no, not his widow, of course, 
but his wife ; for the man was as much alive as anybody, and, 
for all she knew, sitting up and talking like a lawyer. 

All this was very indiscreet. Hilda, in an impenitent sort 
of wav, felt it to be so. 

But it is always so delightful to impart pleasant or surprising 
news ! 

She went tripping along by the canal, quite resolved to 
repeat the sin, ad infinitum^ and tell nearly every girl and boy 
in the school. 

Meantime, Janzoon Kolp came skating by. Of course, in 
two seconds, he was striking slippery attitudes, and shouting 
saucy things to the coachman, who stared at him in indolent 
disdain. 


288 


Hans Brinker 


This, to Janzoon, was equivalent to an invitation to draw 
nearer. The coachman was now upon his box, gathering up 
the reins, and grumbling at his horses. 

Janzoon accosted him. 

‘‘ I say. What ’s going on at the idiot’s cottage ? Is your 
boss in there ? ” 

Coachman nodded mysteriously. 

“ Whew ! ” whistled Janzoon, drawing closer. “ Old 
Brinker dead ? ” 

The driver grew big with importance, and silent in propor- 
tion. 

See here, old pincushion, I ’d run home yonder, and get 
you a chunk of gingerbread, if I thought you could open your 
mouth.” 

Old pincushion was human ; long hours of waiting had 
made him ravenously hungry. At Janzoon’s hint, his counte- 
nance showed signs of a collapse. 

“ That ’s right, old fellow ! ” pursued his tempter. ‘‘ Hurry 
up ; what news old Brinker dead ? ” 

“ No, CURED ! got his wits,” said the coachman, shooting 
forth his words, one at a time, like so many bullets. 

Like bullets (figuratively speaking), they hit Janzoon Kolp. 
He jumped as if he had been shot. 

“ Goede Gunst ! You don’t say so ! ” 

The man pressed his lips together, and looked significantly 
toward Master Kolp’s shabby residence. 

Just then Janzoon saw a group of boys in the distance. 
Hailing them in a rowdy style, common to boys of his stamp 
all over the world, — whether in Africa, Japan, Amsterdam or 
Paris, — he scampered toward them, forgetting coachman, gin- 
gerbread, everything but the wonderful news. 


or, The Silver Skates 


289 


Therefore, by sundowo, it was well known throughout the 
neighboring country that Dr. Boekman, chancing to stop at the 
cottage, had given the idiot Brinker a tremendous dose of medi- 
cine as brown as gingerbread. It had taken six men to hold 
him while it was poured down. The idiot had immediately 
sprung to his feet, in full possession of all his faculties, 
knocked over the doctor, or thrashed him (there was admitted 
to be a slight uncertainty as to which of these penalties was 
inflicted), then sat down, and addressed him, for all the world, 
like a lawyer. After that, he had turned and spoken beauti- 
fully to his wife and children. Dame Brinker had laughed 
herself into violent hysterics. Hans had said, “ Here I am, 
father, your own dear son ! ” and Gretel had said, ‘‘ Here I 
am, father, your own dear Gretel ! ” and the doctor had after- 
ward been seen leaning back in his carriage, looking just as 
white as a corpse. 


290 


Hans Brinker 


XXXVI 

A NEW ALARM 

W HEN Dr. Boekman called the next day at the Brinker 
cottage, he could not help noticing the cheerful, 
comfortable aspect of the place. An atmosphere of happiness 
breathed upon him as he opened the door. Dame Brinker 
sat complacently knitting beside the bed ; her husband was 
enjoying a tranquil slumber ; and Gretel was noiselessly knead- 
ing rye bread on the table in the corner. 

The doctor did not remain long. He asked a few simple 
questions, appeared satisfied with the answers, and, after feel- 
ing his patient’s pulse, said, “ Ah, very weak jufvrouw ; 
very weak, indeed. He must have nourishment. You may 
begin to feed the patient, ahem ! Not too much ; but what 
you do give him, let it be strong, and of the best.” 

“ Black bread we have, mynheer, and porridge,” replied 
Dame Brinker, cheerily. “ They have always agreed with him 
well.” 

‘‘Tut, tut! ” said the doctor, frowning: “ nothing of the 
kind. He must have the juice of fresh meat, white bread 
dried and toasted, good Malaga wine, and — ahem ! The man 
looks cold : give him more covering, something light and 
warm. Where is the boy ” 

“ Hans, mynheer, has gone into Broek to look for work. 
He will be back soon. Will the meester please be seated } ” 


or. The Silver Skates 


291 


Whether the hard, polished stool offered by Dame Brinker 
did not look particularly tempting, or whether the dame herself 
frightened him, partly because she was a woman, and partly 
because an anxious, distressed look had suddenly appeared 
in her face, I cannot say. Certain it is, that our eccentric 
doctor looked hurriedly about him, muttered something about 
“ extraordinary case,” bowed, and disappeared, before Dame 
Brinker had time to say another word. 

Strange that the visit of their good benefactor should have 
left a cloud; yet so it was. Gretel frowned, — an anxious, 
childish frown, — and kneaded the bread-dough violently, with- 
out looking up. Dame Brinker hurried to her husband’s bed- 
side, leaned over him, and fell into silent but passionate 
weeping. 

In a moment Hans entered. 

“ Why, mother ! ” he whispered in alarm, ‘‘ what ails thee ? 
Is the father worse ? ” 

She turned her quivering face toward him, making no at- 
tempt to conceal her distress. 

‘‘Yes: he is starving, perishing. The meester said it.” 

Hans turned pale. 

“ What does this mean, mother ? We must feed him at 
once. Here, Gretel, give me the porridge.” 

“ Nay ! ” cried his mother, distractedly, yet without raising 
her voice. “ It may kill him. Our poor fare is too heavy for 
him. O Hans ! he will die, the father will die^ if we use him 
this way. He must have meat, and sweet wine, and a dek-bed. 
Oh ! what shall I do, what shall I do ? ” she sobbed, wringing 
her hands. “ There is not a stiver in the house.” 

Gretel pouted : it was the only way she could express sym- 
pathy just then. Her tears fell one by one into the dough. 


292 Hans Brinker 

“ Did the meester say he must have these things, mother ? 
asked Hans. 

“ Yes, he did.” 

“ Well, mother, don’t cry : he shall have them. I shall 
bring meat and wine before night. Take the cover from 
my bed. I can sleep in the straw.” 

‘‘Yes, Hans; but it is heavy, scant as it is. The meester 
said he must have something light and warm. He will perish. 
Our peat is giving out, Hans. The father has wasted it sorely, 
throwing it on when I was not looking, dear man.” 

“ Never mind, mother,” whispered Hans, cheerfully. “We 
can cut down the willow-tree and burn it, if need be ; but I’ll 
bring home something to-night. There must be work in Am- 
sterdam, though there ’s none in Broek. Never fear, mother: 
the worst trouble of all is past. We can brave anything, now 
that the father is himself again.” 

“ Ay ! ” sobbed Dame Brinker, hastily drying her eyes, “ that 
is true indeed.” 

“ Of course it is. Look at him, mother ; how softly he 
sleeps ! Do you think God would let him starve, just after 
giving him back to us ? Why, mother, I’m as sure of getting 
all the father needs as if my pocket was bursting with gold. 
There, now, don’t fret.” And, hurriedly kissing her, Hans 
caught up his skates, and slipped from the cottage. 

Poor Hans ! Disappointed in his morning’s errand, half 
sickened with this new trouble, he wore a brave look, and tried 
to whistle as he tramped resolutely off with the firm intention 
of mending matters. 

Want had never before pressed so sorely upon the Brinker 
family. Their stock of peat was nearly exhausted ; and all 
the flour in the cottage was in Gretel’s dough. They had 


or, The Silver Skates 


293 


scarcely cared to eat during the past few days ; scarcely realized 
their condition. Dame Brinker had felt so sure that she and 
the children could earn money before the worst came, that she 
had given herself up to the joy of her husband’s recovery. 
She had not even told Hans that the few pieces of silver in the 
old mitten were quite gone. 

Hans reproached himself, now, that he had not hailed the 
doctor when he saw him enter his coach, and drive rapidly 
away in the direction of Amsterdam. 

Perhaps there is some mistake,” he thought. “ The meester 
surely would have known that meat and sweet wine were not 
at our command. And yet the father looks very weak, he 
certainly does. I must get work. If Mynheer van Holp 
were back from Rotterdam, I could get plenty to do. But 
Master Peter told me to let him know if he could do aught to 
serve us. I shall go to him at once. Oh, if it were but 
summer ! ” 

All this time Hans was hastening towards the canal- Soon 
his skates were on ; and he was skimming rapidly toward the 
residence of Mynheer van Holp. 

“ The father must have meat and wine at once, ” he 
muttered. But how can I earn the money in time to buy 
them to-day ? There is no other way but to go, as I promised^ 
to Master Peter. What would a gift of meat and wine be to 
him ? When the father is once fed, I can rush down to 
Amsterdam, and earn the morrow’s supply.” 

Then came other thoughts, — thoughts that made his heart 
thump heavily, and his cheeks burn with a new shame. “ It 
is beggings to say the least. Not one of the B tinkers has ever 
been a beggar. Shall I be the first ? Shall my poor father, 
just coming back into life, learn that his family have asked for 


294 Hans Brinker 

charity, — he, always so wise and thrifty ? No ! ” cried Hans 
aloud, ‘‘ better a thousand times to part with the watch.” 

I can at least borrow money on it in Amsterdam,” he 
thought, turning around : “ that will be no disgrace. I can 
find work at once, and get it back again. Nay, perhaps I can 
even speak to the father about it. ” 

This last thought almost made the lad dance for joy. 
Why not, indeed, speak to the father ? He was a rational 

being now. ‘‘ He may wake,” 
thought Hans, “ quite bright and 
rested ; may tell us the watch is 
of no consequence ; to sell it, of 
course. Huzza ! ” and Hans al- 
most flew over the ice. 

A few moments more, and the 
skates were again swinging from 
his arm. He was running to- 
wards the cottage. 

His mother met him at the door. 
‘‘ O Hans ! ” she cried, her face 
radiant with jov, “ the young lady 
has been here with her maid. She 
brought everything, — meat, jelly, 
wine and bread, a whole basketful ! 
Then the ?neester sent a man from 
town with more wine, and a fine 
bed and blankets for the father. 
Oh ! he will get well now. God 
bless them ! ” 

“ God bless them ! ” echoed Hans, and, for the first time that 
day, his eyes filled with tears. 



“ MEAT, JELLY, WINE AND 
JREAD, A WHOLE BASKETFUL.” 


or. The Silver Skates 


295 


XXXVII 


THE FATHER’S RETURN 


HAT evening Raff Brinker felt so much better that he 



A insisted upon sitting up a while on the rough, high-backed 
chair by the fire. For a few moments there was quite a 
commotion in the little cottage. Hans was all-important on 
the occasion ; for his father was a heavy man, and needed 
something firm to lean upon. The dame, though none of 
your fragile ladies, was in such a state of alarm and excitement 
at the bold step they were taking in lifting him without the 
meester's orders, that she came near pulling her husband over, 
even while she believed herself to be his main prop and support. 

Steady, vrouw^ steady ! ” panted Raff. ‘‘ Have I grown 
old and feeble ? or is it the fever makes me thus helpless ? ” 

“ Hear the man ? ” laughed Dame Brinker, “ talking like any 
other Christian. Why, you ’re only weak from the fever. Raff. 
Here ’s the chair, settled snug and warm : now sit thee down — 
hi-di-didy, there we are ! ” 

With these words. Dame Brinker let her half of the burden 
settle slowly into the chair. Hans prudently did the same. 

Meanwhile Gretel flew about generally, bringing every 
possible thing to her mother to tuck behind the father’s back, 
and spread over his knees. Then she twitched the carved 
bench under his feet, and Hans kicked the fire to make it 
brighter. 


296 


Hans Brinker 


The father was “ sitting up ” at last. What wonder that 
he looked about him like one bewildered ? “ Little Hans ” had 

just been almost carrying him. “ The baby ” was over four 
feet long, and was demurely brushing up the hearth with a 
bundle of willow-wisps. Meitje, the vrouw^ winsome and fair 
as ever, had gained at least fifty pounds in what seemed to 
him a few hours. She also had some new lines in her face 
that puzzled him. The only familiar things in the room were 
the pine table, that he had made before he was married, the 
Bible upon the shelf, and the cupboard in the corner. 

Ah, Raff Brinker ! it was only natural that your eyes should 
fill with hot tears, even while looking at the joyful faces of 
your loved ones. Ten years dropped from a man’s life are no 
small loss, — ten years of manhood, of household happiness 
and care, — ten years of honest labor, of conscious enjoyment 
of sunshine and outdoor beauty, — ten years of grateful life ; 
one day looking forward to all this ; the next, waking to find 
them passed, and a blank. What wonder the scalding tears 
dropped one by one upon your cheek ! 

T ender little Gretel ! The prayer of her life was answered 
through those tears. She loved her father from that moment. 
Hans and his mother glanced silently at each other when they 
saw her spring towards him, and throw her arms about his neck, 

“Father, dear father,” she whispered, pressing her cheek 
close to his, “ don’t cry. We are all here.” 

“ God bless thee,” sobbed Raff, kissing her again and again. 
“ I had forgotten that ! ” 

Soon he looked up again, and spoke in a cheerful voice. 
“ I should know her, vrouw^ ” he said, holding the sweet 
young face between his hands, and gazing at it as though he 
were watching it grow, — “I should know her. The same 


or, The Silver Skates 


297 


blue eyes, and the lips, and, ah, me ! the little song she could 
sing almost before she could stand. But that was long ago,’’ 
he added with a sigh, still looking at her dreamily, - — “ long 
ago : it ’s all gone now. ” 

Not so, indeed ! ” cried Dame Brinker, eagerly. “ Do you 
think I would let her forget it Gretel, child, sing the old 
song thou hast known so long.” 

Raff Brinker’s hands fell wearily, and his eyes closed ; but 
it was something to see the smile playing about his mouth, as 
Gretel’s voice floated about him- like an incense. 

It was a simple air : she had never known the words. 

With loving instinct she softened every note, until RalF 
almost fancied that his two-year-old baby was once more 
beside him. 

As soon as the song was finished, Hans, laughing softly, 
mounted a wooden stool, and began to rummage in the cup- 
board. 

“ Have a care, Hans,” said Dame Brinker, who, through all 
her poverty, was ever a tidy housewife, — “have a care : the 
wine is there at your right, and the white bread beyond it.” 

“ Never fear, mother,” answered Hans, reaching far back 
on an upper shelf : “ I shall do no mischief.” 

Jumping down, he walked toward his father, and placed an 
oblong block of pine wood in his hands. One of its ends was 
rounded off ; and some deep cuts had been made on the top. 

“ Do you know what it is, father ” asked Hans. 

Raff Brinker’s face brightened. “ Indeed, I do, boy ! It 
is the boat I was making you yest — alack, not yesterday, but 
years ago.” 

“ I have kept it ever since, father : it can be finished when 
your hand grows strong again.” 


298 


Hans Brinker 


“ Yes, but not for you, my lad. I must wait for the grand- 
children. Why, you are nearly a man. Have you helped 
your mother, boy, through all these years ? ” 

“ Ay, and bravely ! ” put in Dame Brinker. 

Let me see,” muttered the father, looking in a puzzled 
way at them all : “ how long is it since the night when the 
waters were coming in ? ’Tis the last I remember.” 

‘‘We have told thee true. Raff. It was ten years last 
Pinxter-week.” 

“Ten years — and I fell then, you say. Has the fever 
been on me ever since ? ” 

Dame Brinker scarce knew how to reply. Should she tell 
him all Tell him thnt he had been an idiot, almost a 
lunatic ? The doctor had charged her on no account to 
worry or excite his patient. 

Hans and Gretel looked astonished when the answer came. 

“ Like enough. Raff,” she said, nodding her head, and 
raising her eyebrows. “ When a heavy man like thee falls 
on his head, it ’s hard to say what will come. But thou ’rt 
well now^ Raff. Thank the good Lord ! ” 

The newly awakened man bowed his head. 

“ Ay, well enough, mine vrouw^'' he said, after a moment’s 
silence ; “but my brain turns, somehow, like a spinning-wheel. 
It will not be right till I get on the dikes again. When shall 
I be at work, think you ” 

“ Hear the man ! ” cried Dame Brinker, delighted, yet 
frightened, too, for that matter. “ We must get him on the 
bed, Hans. Work, indeed ! ” 

They tried to raise him from the chair; but he was not 
ready yet. 

“ Be off with ye ! ” he said, with something like his old 



DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS, 


FATHER ? ” 





J 

1 

• 4 

1 

J 

'1 


* 


« 








• f 



f 


% 



t 


I 


or, The Silver Skates 


301 


smile (Gretel had never seen it before). “ Does a man want 
to be lifted about like a log ? I tell you, before three suns, I 
shall be on the dikes again. Ah ! there ’ll be some stout 
fellows to greet me. Jan Kamphuisen and young Hoogsvliet. 
They have been good friends to thee, Hans, I ’ll warrant.” 

Hans looked at his mother. Young Hoogsvliet had been 
dead five years. Jan Kamphuisen was in the jail at Am- 
sterdam. 

Ay, they ’d have done their share, no doubt,” said Dame 
Brinker, parrying the inquiry, had we asked them. But, 
what with working and studying, Hans has been busy enough 
without seeking comrades.” 

Working and studying,” echoed Raff, in a musing tone. 

Can the youngsters read and cipher, Meitje ? ” 

‘‘ You should hear them ! ” she answered proudly. “ They 
can run through a book while I mop the floor. Hans, there, 
is as happy over a page of big words as a rabbit in a cabbage- 
patch ; as for ciphering — ” 

“ Here, lad, help a bit,” interrupted RalF Brinker : ‘‘ I 
must get me on the bed again.” 


302 


Hans Brinker 


XXXVIII 

THE THOUSAND GUILDERS 

N one seeing the humble supper eaten in the Brinker 
cottage that night would have dreamed of the dainty 
fare hidden away near by. Hans and Gretel looked rather 
wistfully toward the cupboard as they drank their cupful of 
water, and ate their scanty share of black bread ; but even in 
thought they did not rob their father. 

“ He relished his supper well,” said Dame Brinker, nodding 
sidewise toward the bed, and fell asleep the next moment. 
Ah, the dear man will be feeble for many a day. He wanted 
sore to sit up again ; but while I made show of humoring him, 
and getting ready, he dropped off. Remember that, my girl, 
when you have a man of your own (and many a day may it 
be before that comes to pass), — remember you can never rule 
by differing: ‘humble wife is husband’s boss.’ — Tut, tut! 
never swallow such a mouthful as that again, child : why, I 
could make a meal off of two such pieces. What ’s in thee, 
Hans ? One would think there were cobwebs on the wall.” 

“ Oh, no, mother ! I was only thinking — ” 

“Thinking about what? Ah, no use asking,” she added 
in a changed tone : “ I was thinking of the same a while ago. 
Well, well, it ’s no blame if we did look to hear something by 
this time about the thousand guilders ; but not a word — no, 
it ’s plain enough he knows naught about them.” 


or, The Silver Skates 


303 


Hans looked up anxiously, dreading lest his mother should 
grow agitated, as usual, when speaking of the lost money ; but 
she was silently nibbling her bread, and looking with a doleful 
stare toward the window. 

“ Thousand guilders ! ” echoed a faint voice from the bed. 

Ah, I am sure they have been of good use to you, vrouw^ 
through the long years while your man was idle.” 

The poor woman started up. These words quite destroyed 
the hope that of late had been glowing within her. 

‘‘ Are you awake. Raff? ” she faltered. 

“ Yes, Meitje ; and I feel much better. Our money was 
well saved, vrouw^ I was saying. Did it last through all these 
ten years ? ” 

“I — I — have not got it. Raff, I — ” She was going to 
tell him the whole truth, when Hans lifted his finger warn- 
ingly, and whispered, — 

“ Remember what the meester told us : the father must not 
be worried.” 

‘‘ Speak to him, child,” she answered, trembling. 

Hans hurried to the bedside. 

‘‘ I am glad you are feeling better,” he said, leaning over 
his father. “ Another day will see you quite stiong again.” 

“ Ay, like enough. How long did the money last, Hans ? 
I could not hear your mother. What did she say ? ” 

“ I said. Raff,” stammered Dame Drinker in great distress, 
“ that it was all gone.” 

‘‘Well, well, wife, do not fret at that: one thousand 
guilders is not so very much for ten years, and with children 
to bring up ; but it has helped to make you all comfortable. 
Have you had much sickness to bear ? ” 

“ N— no,” sobbed the dame, lifting her apron to her eyes. 


304 


Hans Brinker 


“Tut — tut, woman, why do you cry ? ” said Raff, kindly. 
“We will soon fill another pouch, when I am on my feet 
again. Lucky I told you all about it before I fell.” 

“ Told me what, man ? ” 

“ Why, that I buried the money. In my dream just now, 
it seemed I had never said aught about it.” 

Dame Brinker started forward. Hans caught her arm. 

“ Hist, mother ! ” he whispered, hastily leading her away: 
“ we must be very careful.” Then, while she stood with 
clasped hands, waiting in breathless anxiety, he once more 
approached the cot. Trembling with eagerness he said, — 

“ That was a troublesome dream. Do you remember luhen 
you buried the money, father ? ” 

“Yes, my boy. It was before daylight on the same day I 
was hurt. Jan Kamphuisen said something, the sundown 
before, that made me distrust his honesty. He was the only 
one living, besides mother, who knew we had saved a thousand 
guilders : so I rose up that night, and buried the money. 
Blockhead that I was, ever to suspect an old friend ! ” 

“ I ’ll be bound, father,” pursued Hans, in a laughing voice, 
motioning to his mother and Gretel to remain quiet, “ that 
you ’ve forgotten where you buried it.” 

“ Ha, ha ! not I, indeed. But good-night, my son, I can 
sleep again.” 

Hans would have walked away ; but his mother’s gestures 
were not to be disobeyed : so he said gently, — 

“ Good-night, father ! Where did you say you buried the 
money ? I was only a little one then.” 

“ Close by the willow-sapling behind the cottage,” said Raff 
Brinker, drowsily. 

“ Ah^ yes ! North side of the tree, wasn’t it, father ? ” 


or, The Silver Skates 


305 


“ No, the south side. Ah, you know the spot well 
enough, you rogue. Like enough you were there when your 
mother lifted it. Now, son, easy ; shift this pillow, so. 
Good-night ! ’’ 

‘‘ Good-night, father ! ” said Hans, ready to dance for joy. 

The moon rose very late that night, shining in, full and 
clear, at the little window ; but its beams did not disturb 
RafF Brinker. He slept soundly ; so did Gretel. As for 
Hans and his mother, they had something else to do. 

After making a few hurried preparations, they stole forth 
with bright, expectant faces, bearing a broken spade and a 
rusty implement that had done many a day’s service when RafF 
was a hale worker on the dikes. 

It was so light out of doors, they could see the willow-tree 
distinctly. 7'he frozen ground was hard as stone ; but Hans 
and his mother were resolute. Their only dread was, that 
they might disturb the sleepers in the cottage. 

“ This yshreeker is just the thing, mother,” said Hans, strik- 
ing many a vigorous blow ; “ but the ground has set so firm, 
it ’ll be a fair match for it.” 

“ Never fear, Hans,” she answered, watching him eagerly. 
“ Here, let me try a while.” 

They soon succeeded in making an impression j one open- 
ing, and the rest was not so difficult. 

Still they worked on, taking turns, and whispering cheerily 
to one another. Now and then Dame Brinker stepped noise- 
lessly over the threshold, and listened, to be certain that her 
husband slept. 

‘‘ What grand news it will be for him ! ” she said, laugh- 
ing, ‘‘ when he is strong enough to bear it. How I should 


3o6 


Hans Brinker 


like to put the pouch and the stocking, just as we find them, 
all full of money, near him this blessed night, for the dear 
man to see when he wakens ! ” 

We must get them, first, mother,” panted Hans, still tug- 
ging away at his work. 

There ’s no doubt of that. They can’t slip away from 
us, now,” she answered, shivering with cold and excite- 
ment as she crouched beside the opening. “ Like enough 
we ’ll find them stowed in the old earthen pot I lost long 
ago.” 

By this time Hans, too, began to tremble, but not with 
cold. He had penetrated a foot deep for quite a space on 
the south side of the tree. At any moment they might 
come upon the treasure. 

Meantime the stars winked and blinked at each other as 
if to say, “ Queer country, this Holland ! How much we 
do see, to be sure ! ” 

“ Strange that the dear father should have put it down 
so woful deep,” said Dame Brinker in a rather provoked 
tone. “ Ah, the ground was soft enough then, I warrant. 
How wise of him to mistrust Jan Kamphuisen, and Jan 
in full credit at the time ! Little I thought that hand- 
some fellow with his gay ways would ever go to jail ! 
Now, Hans, let me take a turn. It ’s lighter v/ork, d’ ye 
see, the deeper we go ? I ’d be loath to kill the tree, 
Hans : will we harm it, think you ? ” 

“ I cannot say,” he answered gravely. 

Hour after hour, mother and son worked on. The 
hole grew larger and deeper. Clouds began to gather in 
the sky, throwing elfish shadows as they passed. Not un- 
til moon and stars faded away, and streaks of daylight be- 


or, The Silver Skates 307 

gan to appear, did Meitje Brinker and Hans look hopelessly 
into each other’s face. 

They had both searched thoroughly, desperately, all round 
the tree, south, north, east, west. The hidden money was not 
there ! 



THE HIDDEN MONEY WAS NOT THERE ! 


3o8 


Hans Brinker 


XXXIX 

GLIMPSES 

y\ NNIE BOUMAN had a healthy distaste for Jan- 
zoon Kolp. Janzoon Kolp, in his own rough way, 
adored Annie. Annie declared she could not, “ to save her 
life,” say one civil word to that odious boy. Janzoon 
believed her to be the sweetest, sauciest creature in the 
world. Annie laughed among her playmates at the com- 
ical flapping of Janzoon’s tattered and dingy jacket : he 
sighed in solitude over the floating grace of her jaunty 
blue petticoat. She thanked her stars that her brothers 
were not like the Kolps ; and he growled at his sister be- 
cause she was not like the Boumans. They seemed to 
exchange natures whenever they met. His presence made 
her harsh and unfeeling ; and the very sight of her made 
him gentle as a lamb. Of course, they were thrown to- 
gether very often. It is thus, that, in some mysterious 
way, we are convinced of error, and cured of prejudice. 

In this case, however, the scheme failed. Annie detested 
Janzoon more and more at each encounter ; and Janzoon 
liked her better and better every day. 

He killed a stork, the wicked old wretch ! ” she would 
say to herself. 

“ She knows I am strong and fearless,” thought Jan- 


zoon. 


or^ The Silver Skates 


309 

was Annie’s 


“ How red and freckled and ugly he is ! ” 
secret comment when she looked at him. 

“ How she stares, and stares ! ” thought Janzoon. “Well, 
I am a fine, weather-beaten fellow, anyway.” 

“Janzoon Kolp, you impudent boy, go right away from 
me ! ” Annie often said. “ I don’t want any of your com- 
pany.” 

“ Ha, ha ! ” laughed Janzoon to himself. “ Girls never 
say what they mean. I ’ll skate with her every chance I can 
get.” 

And so it came to pass that the pretty maid would not 
look up that morning, when, skating homeward from Am- 
sterdam, she became convinced that a great, burly boy was 
coming down the canal toward her. 

“Humph! if I look at him,” thought Annie, “I’ll — ” 

“ Good-morrow, Annie Bouman ! ” said a pleasant voice. 

[H ow a smile brightens a girl’s face !] 

“ Good-morrow, Master Hans I I am right glad to meet 
you.” 

[How a smile brightens a boy’s face !] 

“ Good-morrow again, Annie ! There has been a great 
change at our house since you left.” 

“ How so ” she exclaimed, opening her eyes very wide. 

Hans, who had been in a great hurry, and rather moody, 
grew talkative, and quite at leisure, in Annie’s sunshine. 
Turning about, and skating slowly with her towards Broek, 
he told the good news of his father. Annie was so true 
a friend, that he told her even of their present distress, — 
of how money was needed, and how everything depended 
upon his obtaining work ; and he could find nothing to do 
in the neighborhood. 


310 


Hans Brinker 


All this not said as a complaint, but just because she 
was looking at him, and really wished to know. He 
could not speak of last night’s bitter disappointment ; for 
that secret was not wholly his own. 

“ Good-by, Annie ! ” he said at last. “ The morning is 
going fast ; and I must haste to Amsterdam, and sell these 
skates. Mother must have money at once. Before night- 
fall I shall certainly find a job somewhere.” 

“Sell your new skates, Hans!” cried Annie, — “you, 
the best skater around Broek ! Why, the race is com- 
ing off in five days.” 

“ I know it,” he answered resolutely. “ Good-by ! I shall 
skate home again on the old wooden ones.” 

Such a bright glance 1 — so different from Janzoon’s ugly 
grin I And Hans was off like an arrow. 

“ Hans, come back ! ” she called. 

Her voice changed the arrow into a top. Spinning around, 
he darted, in one long, leaning sweep, toward her. 

“ Then you really are going to sell your new skates, if you 
can find a customer.” 

“ Of course I am,” he replied, looking up with a smile. 

“Well, Hans, if you are going to sell your skates,” said 
Annie, somewhat confused, — “I mean if you — well, I know 
somebody who would like to buy them ; that ’s all.” 

“ Not Janzoon Kolp ” asked Hans, flushing. 

“ Oh, no ! ” she pouted. “ He is not one of my friends.” 

“ But you know him,” persisted Hans. 

Annie laughed. “ Yes, I know him ; and it ’s all the worse 
for him that I do. Now, please, Hans, don’t ever talk any 
more to me about Janzoon. I hate him ! ” 

“ Hate him ? You hate any one, Annie f ” 


or. The Silver Skates 


She shook her head saucily. “ Yes ; and I ’ll hate you too, 
if you persist in calling him one of my friends. You boys may 
like him, because he caught the greased goose at the Kermis 
last summer, and climbed the pole with his great ugly body 
tied up in a sack ; but I don’t care for such things. I ’ve dis- 
liked him ever since I saw him try to push his little sister out 
of the merry-go-round at Amsterdam ; and it ’s no secret up 
our way who killed the stork on your mother’s roof. But we 
mustn’t talk about such a bad, wicked fellow. Really, Hans, 
I know somebody who would be glad to buy your skates. You 
won’t get half a price for them in Amsterdam. Please give 
them to me. I ’ll take you the money this very afternoon.” 

If Annie was charming even when she said “ hate,” there 
was no withstanding her when she said “ please : ” at least, 
Hans found it to be so. 

“ Annie,” he said, taking off the skates, and rubbing them 
carefully with a snarl of twine before handing them to her, “ I 
am sorry to be so particular ; but, if your friend should not 
want them, will you bring them back to me to-day I must 
buy peat and meal for the mother early to-morrow morning.” 

“ My friend will want them,” laughed Annie, nodding 
gaylv, and skating off at the top of her speed. 

As Hans drew forth the wooden runners ” from his capa- 
cious pockets, and fastened them on as best he could, he did 
not hear Annie murmur, “ I wish I had not been so rude ; 
poor, brave Hans ! What a noble boy he is ! ” And as 
Annie skated homeward, filled with pleasant thoughts, she did 
not hear Hans say, “ I grumbled like a bear. But bless her ! 
some girls are like angels ! ” 

Perhaps it was all for the best. One cannot be expected to 
know everything that is going on in the world, 


312 


Hans Brinker 


XL 


LOOKING FOR WORK 



UXURIES unfit us for returning to hardships easily en- 


-Ly dured before. The wooden runners squeaked more 
than ever. It was as much as Hans could do to get on with 
the clumsy old things ; still he did not regret that he had parted 
with his beautiful skates, but resolutely pushed back the boyish 
trouble that he had not been able to keep them just a little 
longer, at least, until after the race. 

Mother surely will not be angry with me,” he thought, 
for selling them without her leave. She has had care enough 
already. It will be full time to speak of it when I take home 
the money.” 

Hans went up and down the streets of Amsterdam that day, 
looking for work. He succeeded in earning a few stivers by 
assisting a man who was driving a train of loaded mules into 
the city ; but he could not secure steady employment anywhere. 
He would have been glad to obtain a situation as porter or 
errand-boy ; but though he passed, on his way, many a loiter- 
ing, shuffling urchin, laden with bundles, there was no place 
for him. Some shopkeepers had just supplied themselves; 
others needed a trimmer, more lightly-built fellow (they meant 
better dressed, but did not choose to say so) ; others told him 
to call again in a month or two, when the canals would prob 
ably be broken up ; and many shook their heads at him with- 
out saying a word. 


or, The Silver Skates 313 

At the factories he met with no better luck. It seemed to 
him, that in those great buildings, turning out respectively such 
tremendous quantities of woollen, cotton and linen stuffs, such 
world-renowned dyes and paints, such precious diamonds cut 
from the rough, such supplies of meal, of bricks, of glass and 
china, — that in at least one of these, a strong-armed boy, able 
and eager to work, could find something to do. But no, 
nearly the same answer met him everywhere, ‘‘ No need of 
more hands just now. If he had called before Nicholas Day, 
they might have given him a job, as they were hurried then ; 
but at present they had more boys than they needed.” Hans 
wished they could see, just for a moment, his mother and 
Gretel. He did not know how the anxiety of both looked 
out from his eyes, and how, more than once, the gruffest 
denials were uttered with an uncomfortable consciousness that 
the lad ought not to be turned away. Certain fathers, when 
they went home that night, spoke more kindly than usual to 
their own youngsters, from memory of a frank young face 
saddened at their words ; and, before morning, one man 
actually resolved, that, if the Broek boy came in again, he 
would instruct his head man Blankert to set him at something. 

But Hans knew nothing of all this. Toward sundown he 
started on his return to Broek, uncertain whHher the strange, 
choking sensation in his throat arose from discouragement, or 
resolution. There was one more chance. Mynheer van 
Holp might have returned by this time. Master Peter, it was 
reported, had gone to Haarlem to attend to something connected 
with the great skating-race. Still Hans would go and try. 

Fortunately Peter had returned early that morning. He 
was at home when Hans reached there, and was just about 
starting for the Blinker cottage. 


314 


Hans Brinker 


“ Ah, Hans ! ” he cried as the weary boy approached the 
door. ‘‘ You are the very one I wished to see. Come in, 
and warm yourself.” 

After tugging at his well-worn hat, which always would stick 
to his head when he was embarrassed, Hans knelt down, — not 

by way of making a 
new style of Oriental 
salute, nor to worship 
the goddess of cleanli- 
ness who presided 
there, but because his 
heavy shoes would have 
filled the soul of a 
Broek housewife with 

horror. When their 

owner stepped softly 

VISITORS WITHIN. . ■' 

into the house, they 

were left outside to act as sentinels until his return. 



Hans left the Van Holp mansion with a lightened heart. 
Peter had brought word from Haarlem that young Brinker was 
to commence working upon the summer-house doors immedi- 
ately. There was a comfortable workshop on the place; and 
it was to be at his service until the carving was done. 

Peter did not tell Hans that he had skated all the way to 
Haarlem for the purpose of arranging this plan with Mynheer 
van Holp. It was enough for him to see the glad, eager look 
rise on young Brinker’s face. 

“ I think I can do it,” said Hans, “ though I have never 
learned the trade.” 

“ I am sure you can,” responded Peter, heartily. “ You will 


or. The Silver Skates 


315 

find every tool you require in the workshop. It is nearly hidden 
yonder by that wall of twigs. In summer, when the hedge is 
green, one cannot see the shop from here at all. How is your 
father to-day ? ” 

“ Better, mynheer : he improves every hour.” 

“ It is the most astonishing thing I ever heard of. That 
gruff old doctor is a great fellow, after all.” 

“ Ah, mynheer ! ” said Hans, warmly, “ he is more than 
great ; he is good. But for the meester^s kind heart and great 
skill, my poor father would yet be in the dark. I think, 
mvnheer,” he added with kindling eyes, ‘‘ surgery is the very 
noblest science in the world.” 

Peter shrugged his shoulders. “Very noble it may be, but 
not quite to my taste. This Dr. Boekman certainly has skill. 
As for his heart — defend me from such hearts as his ! ” 

“ Why do you say so, mynheer ? ” asked Hans. 

Just then a lady slowly entered from an adjoining apartment. 
It was Mevrouw van Holp, arrayed in the grandest of caps, 
and the longest of satin aprons, ruffled with lace. She nodded 
placidly as Hans stepped back from the fire, bowing as well as 
he knew how. 

Peter at once drew a high-backed oaken chair toward the 
fire ; and the lady seated herself. There was a block of cork 
on each side of the chimney-place. One of these he placed 
under his mother’s feet. 

Hans turned to go. 

“ Wait a moment, if you please, young man,” said the lady. 
“ I accidentally overheard you and my son speaking, I think, 
of my friend Dr. Boekman. You are right, young man. Dr. 
Boekman has a very kind heart. — You perceive, Peter, we 
may be quite mistaken in judging of persons solely by their 


3i6 


Hans Brinker 


manners ; though a courteous deportment is by no means to 
be despised.” 

“ I intended no disrespect, mother,” said Peter ; “ but surely 
one has no right to go growling and snarling through the 
world as they say he does.” 

“ ‘ They say.’ Ah, Peter ! ‘ they ’ means everybody or 
nobody. Surgeon Boekman has had a great sorrow. Many 
years ago he lost his only child, under very painful circum- 
stances, — a fine lad, except that he was a thought too hasty 
and high-spirited. Before then, Gerard Boekman was one of 
the most agreeable gentlemen I ever knew.” 

So saying, Mevrouw van Holp, looking kindly upon the two 
boys, arose and left the room with the same dignity with 
which she had entered. 

Peter, only half convinced, muttered something about ‘‘ the 
sin of allowing sorrow to turn all one’s honey into gall,” as 
he conducted his visitor to the narrow side-door. Before they 
parted, he advised Hans to keep himself in good skating order ; 
“ for,” he added, “ now that your father is all right, you will 
be in fine spirits for the race. That will be the prettiest 
skating-show ever seen in this part of the world. Everybody 
is talking of it ; you are to try for the prize, remember.” 

“ I shall not be in the race, mynheer,” said Hans, looking 
down. 

“ Not be in the race ! Why not, indeed ? ” And immedi- 
ately Peter’s thoughts swept on a full tide of suspicion towards 
Carl Schummel. 

“ Because I cannot, mynheer,” answered Hans, as he 
bent to slip his feet into his big shoes. 

Something in the boy’s manner warned Peter that it would 
be no kindness to press the matter further. He bade Hans 



WAIT A MOMENT, IF YOU PLEASE, YOUNG MAN 








.j«; - y\>! 




■'jfr -t 

® ^ . m. ~ • A • I / 1 • V v,^ • 

^'■' iHii: , . .. »•. 


••'•'^Oi.y.’r-, ;* 4r-v K, -A 





V/ 'V ’ y ■' *s 



.'i i .: •- - >• • , A'f.'*- -rrAl^A^VL-.v^. .. .h.n^^sh -.■ .A 



or. The Silver Skates 


3^9 

‘‘ good-by,” and stood thoughtfully watching him as he 
walked away. 

In a minute, Peter called out. 

Hans Blinker ! ” 

“ Y es, mynheer.” 

I ’ll take back all I said about Dr. Boekman.” 

Yes, mynheer.” 

Both were laughing. But Peter’s smile changed to a look 
of puzzled surprise when he saw Hans kneel down by the 
canal, and put on the wooden skates. 

‘‘Very queer!” muttered Peter, shaking his head as he 
turned to go into the house. “ Why in the world don’t the 
boy wear his new ones ? ” 


320 


Hans Brinker 


XLI 

THE FAIRY GODMOTHER 

T he sun had gone down quite out of sight, when our hero, 
with a happy heart, but something like a sneer on his coun- 
tenance as he jerked off the wooden ‘‘ runners, ” trudged hope- 
fully toward the tiny hut-like building, known of old as the 
“ Idiot’s Cottage.” 

Duller eyes than his would have discerned two slight figures 
moving near the doorway. 

That gray, well-patched jacket, and the dull blue skirt, 
covered with an apron of still duller blue ; that faded, close- 
fitting cap ; and those quick little feet in their great boat-like 
shoes, — they were Gretel’s, of course. He would have 
known them anywhere. 

That bright, coquettish, red jacket, with its pretty skirt 
bordered with black ; that graceful cap bobbing over the gold 
ear-rings ; that dainty apron ; and those snug leather shoes that 
seemed to have grown with the feet, — why, if the Pope of 
Rome had sent them to him by express, Hans could have 
sworn they were Annie’s. 

The two girls were slowly pacing up and down in front 
of the cottage. Their arms were intertwined, of course ; and 
their heads were nodding and shaking as emphatically as if all 
the affairs of the kingdom were under discussion. 

With a joyous shout, Hans hastened toward them. 


or The Silver Skates 


321 



“ Huzza, girls, I’ve found work ! ” 

This brought his mother to the cottage-door. 

She, too, had pleasant tidings. The father was still improv- 
ing. He had been sitting up nearly all day, and was now 
sleeping, as Dame Brinker declared, “just as quiet as a lamb.” 


“HUZZA, GIRLS, I ’VE FOUND WORK!” 


322 


Hans Brinker 


“It is my turn now, Hans,” said Annie, drawing him aside, 
after he had told his mother the good word from Mynheer van 
Holp. “ Your skates are sold, and here ’s the money.” 

“Seven guilders ! ” cried Hans, counting the pieces in aston- 
ishment ; “ why, that is three times as much as I paid for 
them.” 

“ I cannot help that,” said Annie. “ If the buyer knew no 
better, it is not our fault.” 

Hans looked up quickly. 

“ O Annie ! ” 

“ O Hans ! ” she mimicked, pursing her lips, and trying to 
look desperately wicked and unprincipled. 

“Now, Annie, I know you would never mean that! You 
must return some of this money.” 

“ But I ’ll not do any such thing,” insisted Annie. 
“ They ’re sold ; and that ’s the end of it.” Then, seeing that 
he looked really pained, she added in a lower tone, — 

“ Will you believe me, Hans, when I say that there has 
been no mistake, that the person who bought your skates 
insisted upon paying seven guilders for them } ” 

“ I will,” he answered j and the light from his clear blue 
eyes seemed to settle and sparkle under Annie’s lashes. 

Dame Brinker was delighted at the sight of so much silver \ 
but, when she learned that Hans had parted with his treasures 
to obtain it, she sighed as she exclaimed, — 

“ Bless thee, child ! That will be a sore loss for thee ! ” 

“ Here, mother,” said the boy, plunging his hands far into his 
pocket, — “ here is more; we shall be rich if we keep on.” 

“ Ay, indeed,” she answered, eagerly reaching forth her 
hand ; then, lowering her voice, added, “ We should be rich, 
but for that Jan Kamphuisen. He was at the willow-tree 
years ago, Hans, depend upon it I ” 


or, The Silver Skates 


3^3 


“ Indeed, it seems likely,” sighed Hans. “■ Well, mother, 
we must give up the money bravely. It is certainly gone : 
the father has told us all he knows. Let us think no more 
about it.” 

“ That ’s easy saying, Hans. I shall try ; but it ’s hard, and 
my poor man wanting so many comforts. Bless me ! How 
girls fly about ! They were here but this instant. Where 
did they run to ? ” 

‘‘ They slipped behind the cottage, ” said Hans, “ like enough 
to hide from us. Hist ! I ’ll catch them for you ? They both 
can move quicker and softer than yonder rabbit ; but I ’ll give 
them a good start first.” 

Why, there is a rabbit, sure enough. Hold, Hans ! the 
poor thing must have been in sore need to venture from its 
burrow this bitter weather. I ’ll get a few crumbs for it 
within.” 

So saying, the good woman bustled into the cottage. She 
soon came out again ; but Hans had forgotten to wait, and the 
rabbit, after taking a cool survey of the premises, had scam- 
pered off to unknown quarters. Turning the corner of the 
cottage. Dame Brinker came upon the children. Hans and 
Gretel were standing before Annie, who was seated carelessly 
upon a stump. 

“That is as good as a picture!” cried Dame Brinker, 
halting in admiration of the group. “ Many a painting have 
I seen at the grand house at Heidelberg not a whit prettier. 
My two are rough chubs, Annie ; but you look like a fairy.” 

“ Do I ? ” laughed Annie, sparkling with animation. 
“Well, then, Gretel and Hans, imagine I ’m your godmother, 
just paying you a visit. Now, I ’ll grant you each a wish. 
What will you have. Master Hans ” 


3^4 


Hans Brinker 


A shade of earnestness passed over Annie’s face as she 
looked up at him ; perhaps it was because she wished from 
the depths of her heart that for once she could have a fairy’s 
power. 

Something whispered to Hans that for the moment she was 
more than mortal. 

I wish,” said he, solemnly, “ I could find something I 
was searching for last night.” 

Gretel laughed merrily. Dame Brinker moaned, “ Shame 
on you, Hans ! ” and passed wearily into the cottage. 

The fairy godmother sprang up, and stamped her foot three 
times. 

“ Thou shalt have thv wish,” said she, “ let them say what 
they will.” Then, with playful solemnity, she put her hand 
into her apron-pocket, and drew forth a large glass bead. 
“ Bury this,” said she, giving it to Hans, where I have 
stamped, and ere moonrise thy wish shall be granted.” 

Gretel laughed more merrily than ever. 

The godmother pretended great displeasure. 

“ Naughty child ! ” said she, scowling terribly. “ In punish- 
ment for laughing at a fairy, thy wish shall not be granted.” 

“ Ha ! ” cried Gretel, in high glee. Better wait till you ’re 
asked, godmother. I haven’t made any wish ! ” 

Annie acted her part well. Never smiling through all their 
merry laughter, she stalked away, the embodiment of offended 
dignity. 

“ Good-night, fairy ! ” they cried again and again. 

“ Good-night, mortals ! ” she called out at last as she 
sprang over a frozen ditch, and ran towards her home. 

“ Oh ! isn’t she — just like flowers, so sweet and lovely ! ” 
cried Gretel, looking after her in great admiration. “ And to 


or, The Silver Skates 


325 

think how many days she stays in that dark room with her 
grandmother. See ! she has stopped. Why, brother Hans ! 
What is the matter ? What are you going to do ? ” 



“BURY THIS.” 


Wait and see ! ” answered Hans, as he plunged into the 
cottage, and came out again, all in an instant, bearing the 
spade and yshreeker in his hands. “ Call Annie ! I ’m going 
to bury my magic bead ! ” 


326 


Hans Brinker 


RafF Brinker still slept soundly. His wife took a small 
block of peat from her nearly exhausted store, and put it 
upon the embers. Then, opening the door, she called 
gently, — 

“ Come in, children ! ” 

“ Mother, mother ! See here ! ” shouted Hans. 

“ Holy St. Bavon ! ’’ exclaimed the dame, springing over 
the doorstep. “ What has come to the boy ? ’’ 

“ Come quick, mother,” he cried, in great excitement, 
^vorking with all his might, and driving in the yshreeker at 
each word. “ Don’t you see ? This is the spot, — right here 
on the south side of the stump. Why didn’t we think of it 
last night ? The stump is the old willow-tree, — the one you 
cut down last spring, because it shaded the potatoes. That 
little tree wasn’t here when father — Huzza ! ” 

Dame Brinker could not speak. She dropped on her knees 
beside Hans just in time to see him drag forth — the old stone 
pot ! 

He thrust in his hand, and took out — a piece of brick, 
then another, then another, then the stocking and the pouch, 
black and mouldy, but filled with the long-lost treasure. 

Such a time ! Such laughing ! such crying ! such count- 
ing, after they went into the cottage. It was a wonder that 
RafF did not waken. His dreams were pleasant, however j 
for he smiled in his sleep. 

Dame Brinker and her children had a fine supper, I can 
assure you. No need of saving the delicacies now. 

“We ’ll buy the Father some nice, fresh things to-morrow,” 
said the dame, as she brought forth the meat, wine, bread and 
jelly that Hilda had sent, and placed them on the clean pine 
table. ‘‘ Ah, but the good man shall have comforts enough 


or, The Silver Skates 327 

and to spare, so he shall,— bless him ! Is it not so, Hans? 
Sit by, children, sit hy.” 

That night Annie fell asleep, wondering whether it was a 
knife Hans had lost, and thinking how funny it would be if 
he should find it, after all. 

Hans had scarce closed his eyes, before he found himself 
trudging through a thicket : pots of gold were lying all around ; 
and watches and skates and glittering beads were swinging 
from every branch. 

Strange to say, each tree, as he approached it, changed into 
a stump ; and on the stump sat the prettiest fairy imaginable, 
clad in a scarlet jacket and blue petticoat. 


328 


Hans Brinker 


XLII 

THE MYSTERIOUS WATCH 

S OMETHING else than the missing guilders was brought 
to light on the day of the fairy godmother’s visit. This 
was the story of the watch, that for ten long years had been 
so jealously guarded by Raff’s faithful vrouw. Through many 
an hour of sore temptation she had dreaded almost to look 
upon it, lest she might be tempted to disobey her husband’s 
request. It had been hard to see her children hungry, and to 
know that the watch, if sold, would enable the roses to bloom 
in their cheeks again. But nay,” she would exclaim, 
“ Meitje Brinker is not one to forget her man’s last bidding, 
come what may.” 

“Take good care of this, mine vrouw he had said as he 
handed it to her : that was all. No explanation followed ; 
for the words were scarcely spoken, when one of his fellow- 
workmen rushed into the cottage, crying, “ Come, man ! 
The waters are rising! You’re wanted on the dikes.” 

Raff had started at once ; and that, as Dame Brinker has 
already told you, was the last she saw of him in his right 
mind. 

On the day when Hans was in Amsterdam, looking for 
work, and Gretel, after performing her household labors, was 
wandering about in search of chips, twigs, anything that could 
be burned. Dame Brinker, with suppressed excitement, had 
laid the watch in her husband’s hand. 


or, The Silver Skates 


329 


It wasn t in reason,” as she afterwards said to Hans, “ to 
wait any longer, when a word from the father would settle all. 
No woman living but would want to 
know how he came by that watch.” 

Raff Blinker turned the bright, pol- 
ished thing over and over in his 
hand ; then he examined the bit of 
smoothly ironed black ribbon fastened 
to it : he seemed hardly to recognize 
it. At last he said, ‘‘ Ah, I remem- 
ber this ! Why, you ’ve been rub- 
bing it, vrouiv^ till it shines like a 
new guilder.” 

Ay,” said Dame B rinker, nod- 
ding her head complacently. 

Raff looked at it again. Poor boy ! ” he murmured, then 
fell into a brown study. 

This was too much for the dame. Poor boy ! ” she 
echoed somewhat tartly. “ What do you think I ’m standing 
here for. Raff Brinker, and my spinning waiting, if not to 
hear more than that ? ” 

“ I told ye all long since,” said Raff, positively, as he looked 
up in surprise. 

“ Indeed, and you never did ! ” retorted the vromu. 

‘‘ Well, if not, since it ’s no affair of ours, we’ll say no more 
about it,” said Raff, shaking his head sadly. “ Like enough, 
while I ’ve been dead on the earth, all this time, the poor 
boy ’s died, and been in heaven. He looked near enough to 
it, poor lad ! ” 

“ Raff Brinker ! If you ’re going to treat me this way, and 
I nursing you and bearing with you since I was twenty-two 



330 


Hans Brinker 


years old, it ’s a shame ; ay, and a disgrace ! ” cried the vrouw^ 
growing quite red, and scant of breath. 

Raff’s voice was feeble yet: “Treat you what way, 
Meitje ? ” 

“ What way ? ” said Dame Brinker, mimicking his voice 
and manner, — “ what way ? Why, just as every woman in 
the world is treated after she ’s stood by a man through the 
worst, like a — ” 

“ Meitjel ” 

Raff was leaning forward with outstretched arms. His eyes 
were full of tears. 

In an instant Dame Brinker was at his feet, clasping his 
hand in hers. 

“ Oh, what have I done ! Made my good man cry, and he 
not back with me four days ! Look up. Raff ! Nay, Raff, my 
own boy, I ’m sorry I hurt thee. It ’s hard not to be told 
about the watch, after waiting ten years to know ; but I ’ll 
ask thee no more. Raff. Here, we ’ll put the thing away 
that ’s made the first trouble between us, after God just giving 
thee back to me.” 

“ I was a fool to cry, Meitje,” he said, kissing her ; “ and 
it ’s no more than right ye should know the truth. But it 
seemed like it might be telling the secrets of the dead to talk 
about the matter.” 

“ Is the man — the lad — thou wert talking of dead, think 
thee } ” asked the vrouw^ hiding the watch in her hand, but 
seating herself expectantly on the end of his long foot-bench. 

“ It ’s hard telling,” he answered. 

“ Was he so sick. Raff.? ” 

“ No, not sick, I may say, but troubled, vrouw^ — very 
troubled.” 


or. The Silver Skates 331 

Had he done any wrong, think ye ? ” she asked, lowering 
her voice. 

RafF nodded. 

Murder ? whispered the wife, not daring to look up. 

“ He said it was like to that, indeed.” 

O RafF! you frighten me. Tell me more — you speak 
so strange ; and you tremble. I must know all.” 

If I tremble, mine vrouw^ it must be from the fever. 
There is no guilt on my soul, thank God I ” 

“ Take a sip of this wine, RafF. There, now you are better. 
It was like to a crime, you were saying ? ” 

‘‘Ay, Meitje, — like to murder; that he told me himself. 
But I ’ll never believe it. A likely lad, fresh and honest- 
looking as our own youngster, but with something not so bold 
and straight about him.” 

“ Ay, I know,” said the dame, gently, fearing to interrupt 
the story. 

“ He came upon me quite sudden,” continued RafF. “ I had 
never seen his face before, — the palest, frightenedest face that 
ever was. He caught me by the arm. ‘ You look like an 
honest man,’ says he.” 

“ Ay, he was right in that,” interrupted the dame, emphat- 
ically. 

RafF looked somewhat bewildered. 

“ Where was I, mine vrouw ? ” 

“ The lad took hold of your arm, RafF,” she said, gazing at 
him anxiously. 

“ Ay, so. The words come awkward to me ; and every- 
thing is half like a dream, ye see.” 

“ S-stut ! What wonder, poor man ! ” sighed the dame, 
stroking his hand. “ If ye had not head enough for a dozen. 


332 


Hans Brinker 


the wit would never have come to ye again. Well, the lad 
caught ye by the arm, and said ye looked honest (well he 
might). What then ? Was it noontime.?” 

“ Nay, before daylight, — long before early chimes.” 

It was the same day you were hurt,” said the dame. “ I 
know it seemed you went to your work in the middle of the 
night. You left off where he caught your arm. Raff.” 

“ Yes,” resumed her husband ; “ and I can see his face this 
minute, — so white and wild looking. ‘Take me down the 
river a way,’ says he. I was working then, you ’ll remember, 
far down on the line, across from Amsterdam. I told him I 
was no boatman. ‘ It ’s an affair of life and death,’ says he, 
‘ take me on a few miles. Yonder skiff is not locked ; but it 
may be a poor man’s boat and I ’d be loath to rob him.’ (The 
words might differ vrouw ; for it ’s all like a dream.) 

Well, I took him down, — it might be six or eight miles, — and 
then he said he could run the rest of the way on shore. I was 
in haste to get the boat back. Before he jumped out, he says, 
sobbing-like, ‘ I can trust you. I ’ve done a thing — God 
knows I never intended it — but the man is dead. I must fly 
from Holland.’ ” 

“ What was it, did he say. Raff.? Had he been shooting at 
a comrade, like they do down at the University at Gottingen .? ” 

“ I can’t recall that. Mayhap he told me ; but it ’s all like a 
dream. I said it wasn’t for me, a good Hollander, to cheat 
the laws of my country by helping him off that way. But he 
kept saying, ‘ God knows I am innocent ! ’ and looked at me in 
the starlight as fair, now, and clear-eyed as our little Hans 
might — and I just pulled away faster.” 

“ It must have been Jan Kamphuisen’s boat,” remarked Dame 
Brinker, dryly: “none other would have left his oars out.” 


or, The Silver Skates 


333 


‘‘ Ay, it was Jan’s boat, sure enough. The man will be 
coming in to see me Sunday, likely, if he ’s heard ; and young 
Hooo-svliet too. Where was I ^ ” 

O 

[It was lucky the dame restrained herself. To have spoken 
at all of Jan, after the last night’s cruel disappointment, would 
have been to have let out more sorrow and suspicion than Raff 
could bear.] 

“ Where were you ? Why, not very far, forsooth. The 
lad hadn’t yet given ye the watch. Alack ! I misgive whether 
he came by it honestly.” 

Why, vromv ! ” exclaimed Raff, in an injured tone. “ He 
was dressed soft and hue as the prince himself. The watch 
was his own, clear enough.” 

How came he to give it up ? ” asked the dame, looking 
uneasily at the fire ; for it needed another block of peat. 

“ I told ye just now,” he answered with a puzzled air. 

‘^Tell me again,” said Dame Blinker, wisely patient. 

“Well, just before jumping from the boat, he says, handing 
me the watch, ‘ I ’m flying from my countrv, as I never thought 
I could. I trust you, because you look honest. Will you take 
this to my father, — not to-day, but in a week, and tell him his 
unhappy boy sent it ; and tell him, if ever the time comes that 
he wants me to come back to him, I ’ll brave everything, and 
come. Tell him to send a letter to — to — ’ There, the rest 
is all gone from me. I can^ t remember where the letter was 
to go. Poor lad, poor lad ! ” resumed Raff, sorrowfully, taking 
the watch from his vromv s lap as he spoke ; “ and it ’s never 
been sent to his father to this day.” 

“ I ’ll take it. Raff, never fear, the moment Gretel gets back. 
She will be in soon. What was the father’s name, did you 
say ? Where were you to find him ” 


334 


Hans Brinker 







- ■ 


■ V ; ' 

• * '"T 

' ■? ' . — 

, ; 'v- ^ ^ 





i% ' ' '■ ' ' 






<‘i’m flying from my country.” 


Alack ! ” answered RalF, speaking very slowly, “ it ’s all 
slipped me. I can see the lad’s face, and his great eyes just as 
plain ! and I remember his opening the watch, and snatching 
something from it, and kissing it. But no more. All the rest 
whirls past me. There ’s a sound like rushing waters comes 
over me when I try to think.” 


or. The Silver Skates 


335 


‘‘ Ay. That ’s plain to see, Raff j but I ’ve had the same 
feeling after a fever. You ’re tired now ; I must get ye straight 
on the bed again. Where is the child, I wonder ? ” 

Dame Brinker opened the door, and called, “ Gretel 
Gretel ? ” 

Stand aside, vrouw^' said RafF, feebly, as he leaned forward, 
and endeavored to look out upon the bare landscape. ‘‘I’ve 
half a mind to stand beyond the door just once.” 

“ Nay, nay,” she laughed. “ I ’ll tell th^ meester how ye tease 
and fidget and bother to be let out in the air ; and, if he says 
it, I ’ll bundle ye warm to-morrow, and give ye a turn on your 
feet. But I ’m freezing you with this door open. I declare, if 
there isn’t Gretel, with her apron full, skating on the canal like 
wild. Why, man!” she continued almost in a scream, as 
she slammed the door, “ thou ’rt walking to the bed without 
my touching thee ! Thou ’It fall ! ” 

The dame’s “ thee ” proved her mingled fear and delight, 
even more than the rush which she made toward her husband. 
Soon he was comfortably settled under the new cover, declaring, 
as his vrouw tucked him in snug and warm, that it was the 
last daylight that should see him abed. 

“ Ay ! I can hope it myself,” laughed Dame Brinker, “ now 
you have been frisking about at that rate.” As RafF closed 
his eyes, the dame hastened to revive her fire, or, rather, to dull 
it ; for Dutch peat is like a Dutchman, slow to kindle, but very 
good at a blaze when once started. Then, putting her neg- 
lected spinning-wheel away, she drew forth her knitting from 
some invisible pocket, and seated herself by the bedside. 

“ If you could remember that man’s name, RafF,” she began 
cautiously, “ I might take the watch to him while you ’re sleep- 
ing : Gretel can’t but be in soon.” 


336 


H ans Brinker 


Raff tried to think, but in vain. 

“ Could it be Boomphoffen ? ” suggested the dame. “ I ’ve 
heard how they’ve had two sons turn out bad, — Gerard and 
Lambert.” 

‘‘It might be,” said Raff. “Look if there’s letters on the 
watch : that ’ll guide us some.” 

“ Bless thee, man ! ” cried the happy dame, eagerly lifting the 
watch : “ whv, thou ’rt sharper than ever ! Sure enough. 

Here ’s letters, — L. J. B. That ’s Lambert Boomphoffen, 
you may depend. What the J. is for, I can’t say ; but they 
used to be grand kind o’ people, high-feathered as fancy fowl, 
— just the kind to give their children all double names, which 
isn’t Scripture, anyway.” 

“ I don’t know about that, vrouw. Seems to me, there ’s 
long mixed names in the Holy Book, hard enough to make out. 
But you’ve got the right guess at a jump. It was your way 
always,” said Raff, closing his eyes. “ Take the watch to 
Boompkinks, and try.” 

“Not Boompkinks! I know no such name : it’s Boomp- 
hoffen.” 

“ Ay, take it there.” 

“Take it there, man! Why, the whole brood of ’em ’s 
been gone to America these four years. But go to sleep. 
Raff : you look pale, and out of strength. It ’ll all come to 
you what ’s best to do, in the morning.” 

“ So, Mistress Gretel ! here you are at last ! ” 

Before Raff awoke that evening, the fairy godmother, as we 
know, had been at the cottage, the guilders were once more 
safely locked in the big chest, and Dame Brinker and the chil- 
dren were faring finely on meat and white bread and wine. 


or. The Silver Skates 


337 


So the mother, in the joy of her heart, told them the story 
of the watch as far as she deemed it prudent to divulge it. 
It was no more than fair, she thought, that the poor things 
should know, after keeping the secret so safe ever since they 
had been old enough to know anything. 


338 


Hans Brinker 


XLIII 

A DISCOVERY 

^T^HE next sun brought a busy day to the Drinkers. 

-I- In the first place, the news of the thousand guilders 
had, of course, to be told to the father. Such tidings as that 
surely could not harm him. Then, while Gretel was dili- 
gently obeying her mother’s injunction to clean the place 
fresh as a new brewing,” Hans and the dame sallied forth to 
revel in the purchasing of peat and provisions. 

Hans was careless and contented ; the dame was filled with 
delightful anxieties caused by the unreasonable demands of 
ten thousand guilders’ worth of new wants that had sprung up 
like mushrooms in a single night. The happy woman talked 
so largely to Hans on their way to Amsterdam, and brought 
back such little bundles af:er all, that he scratched his 
bewildered head as he leaned against the chimney-piece, 
wondering whether, “ bigger the pouch, tighter the string ” 
was in Jacob Cats, and therefore true, or whether he had 
dreamed it when he lay in a fever. 

‘‘ What thinking on. Big-eyes ? ” chirruped his mother, 
half-reading his thoughts as she bustled about, preparing the 
dinner, — ‘‘ what thinking on ? Why, Raff, would ye believe 
it ? the child thought to carry half Amsterdam back on his 
head ! Bless us ! he would have bought as much coffee as 


or. The Silver Skates 


339 


would have filled this fire-pot. ‘ No, no, my lad ! ’ savs I, 
‘ no time for leaks when the ship is rich laden ; ’ and then 
how he stared ! — av, just as he stares this minute. — Hoot, 
lad ! flv around a mite. Ye ’ll grow to the chimney-place 
with vour iHaring and wondering. — Now, RalT, here ’s vour 
chair at the head of the table, where it should be, for there ’s a 



RAFF BRISKER PAYS HIS VROUW A COMPLIMENT. 


MAK to the house now : I ’d say it to the king’s face. Ay, 
that ’s the wav ; lean on Hans : there ’s a strong staff for 
you ! Growing like a weed too, and it seems only yesterday 
since he was toddling. Sit by, my man, sit by.” 


340 


Hans Brinker 


“ Can you call to mind, vrouw^^ said RafF, settling himself 
cautiously in the big chair, the wonderful music-box that 
cheered your working in the big house at Heidelberg ? ’’ 

“ Ay, that I can ! ” answered the dame. ‘‘ Three turns of 
a brass key, and the witchy thing would send the music fairly 
running up and down one’s back : I remember it well. But, 
RafF,” (growing solemn in an instant), you would never 
throw our guilders away for a thing like that?” 

“No, no ! not I, vrouw ; for the good Lord has already 
given me a music-box without pay.” 

All three cast quick, frightened glances at one another and 
at RafF. Were his wits on the wing again ? 

“ Ay, and a music-box that fifty pouchful would not buy 
from me,” insisted RafF. “ And it ’s set going by the turn of 
a mop-handle ; and it slips and glides around the room, every- 
where in a flash, carrying the music about, till you ’d swear 
the birds were back again.” 

“ Holy St. Bavon ! ” screeched the dame : “ what ’s in the 
man ? ” 

“ Comfort and joy, vrouw : that ’s what ’s in him ! Ask 
Gretel, ask my little music-box Gretel, if your man has lacked 
comfort and joy this day.” 

“Not he, mother,” laughed Gretel. “ He ’s been my music- 
box too. We sang together half the time you were gone.” 

“Ay, so ! ” said the dame, greatly relieved. “Now, Hans, 
you ’ll never get through with a piece like that ; but never 
mind, chick, thou ’st had a long fasting. — Here, Gretel, take 
another slice of the sausage : it ’ll put blood in your cheeks.” 

“ Oh, oh, mother ! ” laughed Gretel, eagerly holding forth 
her platter. “ Blood don’t grow in girls’ cheeks : you mean 
roses. — Isn’t it roses, Hans ? ” 


or, The Silver Skates 


341 


While Hans was hastily swallowing a mammoth mouthful, 
in order to give a suitable reply to this poetic appeal, Dame 
Brinker settled the matter with a quick, — 

“ Well, roses or blood, it ’s all one to rhe, so the red finds 
its way to your sunny face. It ’s enough for mother to get 
pale and weary-looking, without — ” 

‘‘ Hoot, vrouw ! ” spoke up Raff, hastily. ‘‘ Thou ’rt fresher 
and rosier this minute than both our chicks put together.” 

This remark, though not bearing very strong testimony to 
the clearness of Raff’s newly awakened intellect, nevertheless 
afforded the dame intense satisfaction ; the meal, accordingly, 
passed off in the most delightful manner. 

After dinner, the affair of the watch was talked over, and 
the mysterious initials duly discussed. 

Hans had just pushed back his stool, intending to start at 
once for Mynheer van Holp’s, and his mother had risen to 
put the watch away in its old hiding-place, when they heard 
the sound of wheels upon the frozen ground. Some one 
knocked at the door, opening it at the same time. 

“ Come in ! ” stammered Dame Brinker, hastily trying to 
hide the watch in her bosom. ‘‘ Oh ! is it you, mynheer ? 
Good-day ! The father is nearly well, as you see. It ’s a 
poor place to greet you in, mynheer, and the dinner not 
cleared away.” 

Dr. Boekman scarcely noticed the dame’s apology. He 
was evidently in haste. 

“ Ahem ! ” he exclaimed ; “ not needed here, I perceive. 
The patient is mending fast.” 

‘^Well he may, mynheer,” cried the dame; ‘Tor only last 
night we found a thousand guilders that ’s been lost to us these 
ten years.” 


342 


H ans Brinker 


Dr. Boekman opened his eyes. 

“Yes, mynheer,” said Raff. “I bid t\\Q vrouw ttW you, 
though it ’s to be a secret among us ; for I see you can keep 
your lips closed as well as any man.” 

The doctor scowled. He never liked personal remarks. 

“ Now, mynheer,” continued Raff, “ you can take youi 
rightful pay. God knows you have earned it, if bringing such 
a poor tool back to the world and his family can be called a 
service. Tell the what’s to pay, mynheer: she will 

hand out the sum right willingly.” 

“ Tut, tut ! ” said the doctor, kindly. “ Say nothing about 
money. I can find plenty of such pay any time ; but grati- 
tude comes seldom. That boy’s ‘ Thank you,’ ” he added, 
nodding sidewise towards Hans, “was pay enough for me.” 

“ Like enough ye have a boy of your own,” said Dame 
Brinker, quite delighted to see the great man becoming so 
sociable. 

Dr. Boekman’s good-nature vanished at once. He gave a 
growl (at least it seemed so to Gretel), but made no actual 
reply. 

“ Do not think the vrouw meddlesome, mynheer,” said Raff. 
“ She has been sore touched of late about a lad whose folks 
have gone away, none know where ; and I had a message for 
them from the young gentleman.” 

“ The name was Boomphoffen,” said the dame, eagerly. 
“ Do you know aught of the family, mynheer ? ” 

The doctor’s reply was brief and gruff. 

“ Yes. A troublesome set. They went, long since, to 
America.” 

“ It might be. Raff,” persisted Dame Brinker, timidly, “ that 
the meester knows somebody in that country ; though I ’m told 


or, The Silver Skates 


343 


they are mostly savages over there. If he could get the watch 
to the BoomphofFens with the poor lad’s message, it would be 
a most blessed thing.” 

“ T ut, vrouw ! Why pester the good meester^ and dying 
men and women wanting him everywhere ? How do ye 
know ye have the true name ? ” 

“ I ’m sure of it ! ” she replied. ‘‘ They had a son Lam- 
bert ; and there ’s an L for Lambert, and a B for Boomp- 
hoffen, on the back ; though, to be sure, there ’s an odd J 
too ; but the meester can look for himself.” 

So saying, she drew forth the watch. 

“ L. J. B ! ” cried Dr. Boekman, springing toward her. 

Why attempt to describe the scene that followed ? I need 
only say that the lad’s message was delivered to his father at 
last, — delivered while the great surgeon was sobbing like a 
little child. 

“ Laurens, my Laurens ! ” he cried, gazing with vearning 
eyes at the watch as he held it tenderlv in his palm. “ Ah, if 
I had but known sooner ! Laurens a homeless wanderer ? 
Great Heaven ! he may be suffering, dying, at this moment ! 
Think, man, where is he ? Where did my boy say the letter 
must be sent ? ” 

Raff shook his head sadly. 

Think ! ” implored the doctor. Surely the memory so 
lately awakened through his aid could not refuse to serve him 
in a moment like this. 

“ It is all gone, mynheer,” sighed Raff. 

Hans, forgetting distinctions of rank and station, forgetting 
everything but that his good friend was in trouble, threw his 
arms around the doctor’s neck. 

‘‘ I can find your son, mynheer. If alive, he is somewhere. 


344 


Hans Brinker 


The earth is not so very large : I will devote every day of 
my life to the search. Mother can spare me now. You are 
rich, mynheer : send me where you will.” 

Gretel began to cry. It was right for Hans to go; but 
how could they ever live without him ? 



HANS AND THE MEESTER. 


Dr. Boekman made no reply, neither did he push Hans 
away. His eyes were fixed anxiously upon RafF Brinker. 
Suddenly he lifted the watch, and with trembling eagerness 


or, The Silver Skates 


345 


attempted to open it. Its stiffened spring yielded at last : the 
case flew open, disclosing a watch-paper in the back bearing a 
group of blue forget-me-nots. RafF, seeing a shade of intense 
disappointment pass over the doctor’s face, hastened to say, — 

‘‘ There was something else in it, mynheer ; but the young 
gentleman tore it out before he handed it to me. I saw him 
kiss it as he put it away.” 

‘‘ It was his mother’s picture,” moaned the doctor ; “ she 
died when he was ten years old. Thank God ! the boy had 
not forgotten. Both dead ? It is impossible ! ” he cried, 
starting up. “My boy is alive. You shall hear his story. 
Laurens acted as my assistant. By mistake he portioned out 
the wrong medicine for one of my patients, — a deadly poison ; 
but it was never administered ; for I discovered the error in 
time. The man died that day. I was detained with other 
bad cases until the next evening. When I reached home, 
my boy was gone — Poor Laurens ! ” sobbed the doctor, 
breaking down completely, “ never to hear from me through 
all these years. His message disregarded. Oh, what must 
he have suffered ! ” 

Dame Brinker ventured to speak. Anything was better 
than to see the meester cry. 

“ It is a mercy to know the young gentleman was innocent. 
Ah, how he fretted ! Telling you, RafF, that his crime was 
like unto murder. It was sending the wrong physic he meant. 
Crime, indeed ! Why, our own Gretel might have done that ! 
Like enough the poor young gentleman heard that the man 
was dead. That ’s why he ran, mynheer. — He said, you 
know, RafF, that he never would come back to Holland again, 
unless,” she hesitated — “ah, your honor, ten years is a dreary 
time to be waiting to hear from — ” 


346 


Hans Brinker 


‘‘ Hist, vrouw ! ” said RafF, sharply. 

Waiting to hear,” groaned the doctor, “ and I, like a fool, 
sitting stubbornly at home, thinking he had abandoned me. I 
never dreamed, Brinker, that the boy had discovered the 
mistake. I believed it was youthful folly, ingratitude, love of 
adventure, that sent him away. My poor, poor Laurens ! ” 

‘‘ But you know all now, mynheer,” whispered Hans. 
“ You know he was innocent of wrong, that he loved you and 
his dead mother. We will find him. You shall see him 
again, dear meester.’’^ 

“ God bless you ! ” said Dr. Boekman, seizing the boy’s 
hand; ‘‘it may be as you say. I shall try, I shall try — and, 
Brinker, if ever the faintest gleam of recollection concerning 
him should come to you, you will send me word at once ” 

“ Indeed we will ! ” cried all but Hans, whose silent promise 
would have satisfied the doctor, even had the others not spoken. 

“ Your boy’s eyes,” he said, turning to Dame Brinker, 
“ are strangely like my son’s. The first time I met him, it 
seemed that Laurens himself was looking at me.” 

“ Ay, mynheer,” replied the mother, proudly. “ I have 
marked that you were much drawn to the child.” 

For a few moments the rneester seemed lost in thought ; then, 
arousing himself, he spoke in a new voice, — 

“ Forgive me, RalF Brinker, for this tumult. Do not feel 
distressed on my account. I leave your house to-day a happier 
man than I have been for many a long year'. Shall I take the 
watch ? ” 

“ Certainly you must, mynheer. It was your son's wish.” 

“ Even so,” responded the doctor, regarding his treasure 
with a queer frown ; for his face could not throw oft' its bad 
habits in an hour, — “even so. And now I must begone. 


or, The Silver Skates 


347 


No medicine is needed by my patient, only peace and cheerful- 
ness ; and both are here in plenty. Heaven bless you, my 
good friends ! I shall ever be grateful to you.” 

“ May Heaven bless you, too, mynheer ! and may you soon 



CAN SERVE YOU, 
AM READY.” 


MYNHEER, 1 


find the dear young gen- 
tleman ! ” said Dame 
Brinker, earnestly, after 
hurriedly wiping her 
eyes upon the corner 
of her apron. 

Raff uttered a hearty 
Amen ! ” and Gretel 
threw such a wistful, 
eager glance at the 
doctor that he patted 
her head as he turned 
to leave the cottage. 

Hans went out also. 

‘‘When I can serve 
you, mynheer, I am 
ready.” 

“Very well, boy,” 


348 


Hans Brinker 


replied Dr. Boekman, with peculiar mildness. “Tell them 
within to say nothing of what has just passed. Meantime, 
Hans, when you are with your father, watch his mood. You 
have tact. At any moment he may suddenly be able to tell us 
more.” 

“ Trust me for that, mynheer.” 

“ Good-day, my boy ! ” cried the doctor, as he sprang into 
his stately coach. 

“ Aha ! ” thought Hans, as it rolled away, “ the meester has 
more life in him than I thought.” 


or. The Silver Skates 


349 


XLIV 

THE RACE 

T he 20th of December came at last, bringing with it the 
perfection of winter weather. All over the level land- 
scape lay the warm sunlight. It tried its power on lake, canal 
and river ; but the ice flashed defiance, and showed no sign 
of melting. The very weather-cocks stood still to enjoy the 
sight. This gave the windmills a holiday. Nearly all the 
past week they had been whirling briskly : now, being rather 
out of breath, they rocked lazily in the clear, still air. Catch a 
windmill working when the weather-cocks have nothing to 
do ! 

There was an end to grinding, crushing and sawing for 
that day. It was a good thing for the millers near Broek. 
Long before noon, they concluded to take in their sails, and go 
to the race. Everybody would be there. Already the north 
side of the frozen Y was bordered with eager spectators : the 
news of the great skating-match had travelled far and wide. 
Men, women and children, in holiday attire, were flocking 
toward the spot. Some wore furs, and wintry cloaks or 
shawls ; but many, consulting their feelings rather than the 
almanac, were dressed as for an October day. 

The site selected for the race was a faultless plain of ice 
near Amsterdam, on that great arm of the Zuyder-Zee, which 
Dutchmen, of course, must call the Eye. The townspeople 


350 


Hans Brinker 


turned out in large numbers. Strangers in the city deemed it 
a fine chance to see what was to be seen. Many a peasant 
from the northward had wisely chosen the 20th as the day for 
the next city-trading. It seemed that everybody, young and 
old, who had wheels, skates or feet at command, had hastened 
to the scene. 

There were the gentry in their coaches, dressed like Parisians 
fresh from the Boulevards ; Amsterdam children in charity 
uniforms ; girls from the Roman Catholic Orphan-House, in 
sable gowns and white headbands ; boys from the Burgher Asy- 
lum, with their black tights and short-skirted, harlequin coats. ^ 
There were old-fashioned gentlemen in cocked hats and velvet 
knee-breeches; old-fashioned ladies, too, in stiff, quilted skirts, 
and bodices of dazzling brocade. These were accompanied by 
servants bearing foot-stoves and cloaks. There were the peas- 
ant-folk arrayed in every possible Dutch costume, — shy 
young rustics in brazen buckles ; simple village-maidens 
concealing their flaxen hair under fillets of gold ; women whose 
long, narrow aprons were stiff with embroidery ; women with 
short corkscrew curls hanging over their foreheads ; women 
with shaved heads and close-fitting caps ; and women in striped 
skirts and windmill bonnets ; men in leather, in homespun, in 
velvet and broadcloth ; burghers in model European attire, 
and burghers in short jackets, wide trousers, and steeple- 
crowned hats. 

^ This is not said in derision. Both the girls and boys of this institu- 
tion wear garments quartered in red and black alternately. By making 
the dress thus conspicuous, the children are, in a measure, deterred from 
wrong-doing while going about the city. The Burgher Orphan-Asylum 
affords a comfortable home to several hundred boys and girls. Holland 
is famous for its charitable institutions. 


or, The Silver Skates 


351 



There were beautiful Fries- 
land girls in wooden shoes and 
coarse petticoats, with solid gold 
crescents encircling their heads, 
finished at each temple with a 
golden rosette, and hung with 
lace a century old. Some wore 
necklaces, pendants and ear- 
rings of the purest gold. Many 
were content with gilt, or even 
with brass ; but it is not an 
uncommon thing for a Friesland woman to have all the family 
treasure in her head-gear. More than one rustic lass displayed 
the value of two thousand guilders upon her head that day. 

Scattered throughout the crowd were peasants from the 
Island of Marken, with sabots, black stockings, and the widest 
of breeches; also women from Marken, with short blue petti- 
coats, and black jackets gayly figured in front. They wore red 
sleeves, white aprons, and a cap like a bishop’s mitre over 
their golden hair. 


HOLLAND PEASANT-FOLK. 



Hans Brinker 


352 

The children, often, were as quaint and odd-looking as their 
elders. In short, one-third of the crowd seemed to have 
stepped bodily from a collection of Dutch paintings. 

Everywhere could be seen tall women and stumpy men, 
lively-faced girls, and youths whose expression never changed 
from sunrise to sunset. 

There seemed to be at least one specimen from every known 
town in Holland. There were Utrecht w’ater-bearers, Gouda 
cheese-makers. Delft pottery-men, Schiedam distillers, Amster- 
dam diamond-cutters, Rotterdam merchants, dried-up herring- 
packers, and two sleepy-eyed shepherds from Texel. Every 
man of them had his pipe and tobacco-pouch. Some carried 
what might be called the smoker’s complete outfit, — a pipe, 
tobacco, a pricker with which to clean the tube, a silver net for 
protecting the bowl, and a box of the strongest of brimstone- 
matches. 

A true Dutchman, you must remember, is rarely without 
his pipe on any possible occasion. He may, for a moment, 
neglect to breathe ; but when the pipe is forgotten, he must 
be dying, indeed. There were no such sad cases here. 
Wreaths of smoke were rising from every possible quarter. 
The more fantastic the smoke-wreath, the more placid and 
solemn the smoker. 

Look at those boys and girls on stilts ! That is a good 
idea. They can see over the heads of the tallest. It is 
strange to see those little bodies high in the air, carried about 
on mysterious legs. They have such a resolute look on their 
round faces, what wonder that nervous old gentlemen, with 
tender feet, wince and tremble while the long-legged little 
monsters stride past them ! 

You will read, in certain books, that the Dutch are a quiet 


or, The Silver Skates 


353 



EVERY MAN HAD HIS PIPE. 


people : so they are generally. But listen ! did ever you hear 
such a din All made up of human voices — no, the horses 
are helping somewhat, and the fiddles are squeaking pitifully ; 
(how it must pain fiddles to be tuned !) but the mass of the 
sound comes from the great vox huinana that belongs to a 
crowd. 

That queer little dwarf, going about with a heavy basket, 
winding in and out among the people, helps not a little. You 
can hear his shrill cry above all other sounds, “ Pypen en 
tabac ! Pypen en tabac ! ” 

Another, his big brother, though evidently some years 
younger, is selling doughnuts and bonbons. He is calling on 
all pretty children, far and near, to come quickly, or the cakes 
will be gone. 

You know quite a number among the spectators. High 
up in yonder pavilion, erected upon the border of the ice, are 
some persons whom you have seen very lately. In the centre 
is Madame van deck. It is her birthday, you remember : 
she has the post of honor. There is Mynheer van deck, 
whose meerschaum has not really grown fast to his lips : it 

23 


354 


Hans Brinker 


only appears so. There are grandfather and grandmother, 
whom you met at the St. Nicholas fete. All the children are 
with them. It is so mild, they have brought even the baby. 
The poor little creature is swaddled very much after the man- 
ner of an Egyptian mummy ; but it can crow with delight, and, 
when the band is playing, open and shut its animated mittens 
in perfect time to the music. 

Grandfather, with his pipe and spectacles and fur cap, makes 
quite a picture as he holds baby upon his knee. Perched high 
upon their canopied platforms, the party can see all that is 
going on. No wonder the ladies look complacently at the 
glassy ice : with a stove for a footstool, one might sit cosily 
beside the north pole. 

There is a gentleman with them who somewhat resembles 
St. Nicholas as he appeared to the young Van Glecks, on the 
5th of December. But the saint had a flowing white beard ; 
and this face is as smooth as a pippin. His saintship was 
larger around the body, too, and (between ourselves) he had a 
pair of thimbles in his mouth, which this gentleman certainly 
has not. It cannot be St. Nicholas, after all. 

Near by, in the next pavilion, sit the Van Holps, with their 
son and daughter (the Van Gends) from the Hague. Peter’s 
sister is not one to forget her promises. She has brought bou- 
quets of exquisite hot-house flowers for the winners. 

These pavilions, and there are others beside, have all been 
erected since daylight. That semicircular one, containing 
Mynheer Korbes’ family, is very pretty, and proves that the 
Hollanders are quite skilled at tent-making ; but I like the Van 
Glecks’ best, — the centre one, — striped red and white, and 
hung with evergreens. 

The one with the blue flags contains the musicians. Those 


or. The Silver Skates 


355 


pagoda-like affairs, decked with sea-shells, and streamers of 
every possible hue, are the judges’ stands ; and those columns 
and flagstaffs upon the ice mark the limit of the race-course. 
The two white columns, twined with green, connected at the 
top by that long, floating strip of drapery, form the starting- 
point. Those flagstaffs, half a mile off, stand at each end of 
the boundary line, cut sufficiently deep to be distinct to the 
skaters, though not deep enough to trip them when they turn 
to come back to the starting-point. 

The air is so clear, it seems scarcely possible that the columns 
and flagstaffs are so far apart. Of course, the judges’ stands 
are but little nearer together. 

Half a mile on the ice, when the atmosphere is like this, is 
but a short distance, after all, especially when fenced with a 
living chain of spectators. 

The music has commenced. How melody seems to enjoy 
itself in the open air ! The fiddles have forgotten their agony, 
and everything is harmonious. Until you look at the blue 
tent, it seems that the music springs from the sunshine, it is 
so boundless, so joyous. Only the musicians are solemn. 

Where are the racers ? All assembled together near the 
white columns. It is a beautiful sight, — forty boys and girls 
in picturesque attire, darting with electric swiftness in and out 
among each other, or sailing in pairs and triplets, beckoning, 
chatting, whispering, in the fulness of youthful glee. 

A few careful ones are soberly tightening their straps ; others, 
halting on one leg, with flushed, eager faces, suddenly cross 
the suspected skate over their knee, give it an examining shake, 
and dart off again. One and all are possessed with the spirit 
of motion. They cannot stand still. Their skates are a part 
of them ; and every runner seems bewitched. 


Hans Brinker 


356 

Holland is the place for skaters, after all. Where else can 
nearly every boy and girl perform feats on the ice that would 
attract a crowd if seen on Central Park Look at Ben ! I did 
not see him before. He is really astonishing the natives ; no 
easy thing to do in the Netherlands. Save your strength, 
Ben, you will need it soon. Now 
other boys are trying ! Ben is sur- 
passed already. Such jumping, such 
poising, such spinning, such india- 
rubber exploits generally ! That boy 
with a red cap is the lion now : his 
back is a watch-spring, his body is 
cork — no, it is iron, or it would snap 
at that. He is a bird, a top, a rabbit, 
a corkscrew, a sprite, a flesh-ball, all 
in an instant. When you think 
he ’s erect, he is down ; and when 
you think he is down, he is up. He 
drops his glove on the ice, and turns 
a somerset as he picks it up. With- 
out stopping, he snatches the cap 
from Jacob Foot’s astonished head, 
and claps it back again “ hindside 
before.” Lookers-on hurrah and 
laugh. Foolish boy ! It is arctic 
weather under your feet, but more 
THE FRENCH TRAVELLER. ‘*>311 temperate overhead. Big drops 
already are rolling down your fore- 
head. Superb skater as you are, you may lose the race. 

A French traveller, standing with a note-book in his hand, 
sees our English friend, Ben, buy a doughnut of the dwarf’s 



or, The Silver Skates 


357 


brother, and eat it. Thereupon he writes in his note-book 
that the Dutch take enormous mouthfuls, and universally are 
fond of potatoes boiled in molasses. 

There are some familiar faces near the white columns. 
Lambert, Ludwig, Peter and Carl are all there, cool, and in 
good skating-order. Hans is not far off. Evidently he is 
going to join in the race, for his skates are on, — the very pair 
that he sold for seven guilders. He had soon suspected 
that his fairy godmother was the mysterious friend ’’ who 
bought them. This settled, he had boldly charged her with 
the deed ; and she, knowing well that all her little savings had 
been spent in the purchase, had not had the face to deny it. 
Through the fairy godmother, too, he had been rendered amply 
able to buy them back again. Therefore Hans is to be in the 
race. Carl is more indignant than ever about it ; but, as 
three other peasant-boys have entered, Hans is not alone. 

Twenty boys and twenty girls. The latter, by this time, 
are standing in front, braced for the start ; for they are to have 
the first ‘‘ run.” Hilda, Rychie and Katrinka are among 
them. Two or three bend hastily to give a last pull at their 
skate-straps. It is pretty to see them stamp to be sure that all 
is firm. Hilda is speaking pleasantly to a graceful little crea- 
ture in a red jacket and a new brown petticoat. Why, it is 
Gretel ! What a difference those pretty shoes make, and the 
skirt, and the new cap ! Annie Bouman is there too. Even 
Janzoon Kolp’s sister has been admitted ; but Janzoon him- 
self has been voted but by the directors, because he killed the 
stork, and only last summer was caught in the act of robbing 
a bird’s nest, — a legal offence in Holland. 

This Janzoon Kolp, you see, was — There, I cannot tell 
the story just now. The race is about to commence. 


358 


H ans Brinker 


Twenty girls are formed In a line. The music has ceased. 
A man, whom we shall call the crier, stands between the 
columns and the first judges’ stand. He reads the rules in a 
loud voice : — 

“The girls and boys are to race in turn, until one 

GIRL AND ONE BOY HAVE BEATEN TWICE. ThEY ARE TO 

START IN A LINE FROM THE UNITED COLUMNS, SKATE TO 
♦ *' 

THE FLAGSTAFF LINE, TURN, AND THEN COME BACK TO THE 
STARTING-POINT ; THUS MAKING A MILE AT EACH RUN.” 

A flag is waved from the judges’ stand. Madame van Gleck 
rises In her pavilion. She leans forward with a white handker- 
chief in her hand. When she drops it, a bugler is to give the 
signal for them to start. 

The handkerchief is fluttering to the ground. Hark ! 

They are off! 

No. Back again. Their line was not true in passing the 
judges’ stand. 

The signal is repeated. 

Off again. No mistake this time. Whew! how fast they go ! 
The multitude Is quiet for an Instant, absorbed in eager, 
breathless watching. 

Cheers spring up along the line of spectators. Huzza ! five 
girls are ahead. Who comes flying back from the boundary- 
mark ? We cannot tell. Something red, that Is all. There Is 
a blue spot flitting near It, and a dash of yellow nearer still. 
Spectators at this end of the line strain their eyes, and wish 
they had taken their post nearer the flagstaff. 

The wave of cheers Is coming back again. Now we can see. 
Katrinka is ahead ! 

She passes the Van Holp pavilion. The next is Madame 
van deck’s. That leaning figure gazing from it is a magnet. 


or. The Silver Skates 


359 


Hilda shoots past Katrinka, waving her hand to her mother as 
she passes. Two others are close now, whizzing on like 
arrows. What is that flash of red and gray ? Hurrah, it is 
Gretel ! She, too, waves her hand, but toward no gay pavilion. 
The crowd is cheering ; but she hears only her father’s voice, 
— ‘‘ Well done, little Gretel ! ” Soon Katrinka, with a quick, 
merry laugh, shoots past Hilda. The girl in yellow is gaining 
now. She passes them all, — all except Gretel. The judges 
lean forward without seeming to lift their eyes from their 
watches. Cheer after cheer fills the air : the very columns 
seem rocking. Gretel has passed them. She has won. 

Gretel Brinker, one mile ! ” shouts the crier. 

The judges nod. They write something upon a tablet 
which each holds in his hand. 

While the girls are resting, — some crowding eagerly around 
our frightened little Gretel, some standing aside in high dis- 
dain, — the boys form in a line. 

Mynheer van Gleck drops the handkerchief, this time. The 
buglers give a vigorous blast. — Off start the boys ! 

Half-way already. Did ever you see the like ! 

Three hundred legs flashing by in an instant. But there are 
only twenty boys. No matter : there were hundreds of legs, I 
am sure. Where are they now ? There is such a noise, one 
gets bewildered. What are the people laughing at ? Oh ! at 
that fat boy in the rear. See him go ! See him ! He ’ll be 
down in an instant : no, he won’t. I wonder if he knows he 
is all alone : the other boys are nearly at the boundary-line. 
Yes, he knows it. He stops. He wipes his hot face. He 
takes off his cap, and looks about him. Better to give up with 
a good grace. He has made a hundred friends by that hearty, 
astonished laugh. Good Jacob Foot ! 


Hans Brinker 


360 

The fine fellow is already among the spectators, gazing as 
eagerly as the rest. 

A cloud of feathery ice flies from the heels of the skaters as 
they bring to,” and turn at the flagstaff's. 

Something black is coming now, one of the boys : it is all 
we know. He has touched the vox humana stop of the crowd ; 
it fairly roars. Now they come nearer ; we can see the red 
cap. There ’s Ben, there ’s Peter, there ’s Hans ! 

Hans is ahead. Young Madame van Gend almost crushes 
the flowers in her hand : she had been quite sure that Peter 
would be first. Carl Schummel is next, then Ben, and the 
youth with the red cap. The others are pressing close. A tall 
figure darts from among them. He passes the red cap, he 
passes Ben, then Carl. Now it is an even race between him 
and Hans. Madame van Gend catches her breath. 

It is Peter ! He is ahead ! Hans shoots past him. Hilda’s 
eyes fill with tears : Peter must beat. Annie’s eyes flash 
proudly. Gretel gazes with clasped hands : four strokes more 
will take her brother to the columns. 

He is there ! Yes; but so was young Schummel just a sec- 
ond before. At the last instant, Carl, gathering his powers, 
had whizzed between them, and passed the goal. 

Carl Schummel, one mile ! ” shouts the crier. 

Soon Madame van Gleck rises again. The falling handker- 
chief starts the bugle ; and the bugle, using its voice as a bow- 
string, shoots off twenty girls like so many arrows. 

It is a beautiful sight ; but one has not long to look : before 
we can fairly distinguish them, they are far in the distance. 
This time they are close upon one another. It is hard to say, as 
they come speeding back from the flagstaff, which will reach 
the columns first. There are new faces among the foremost, — 


or. The Silver Skates 361 

eager, glowing faces, unnoticed before. Katrinka is there, and 
Hilda ; but Gretel and Rychie are in the rear. Gretel is waver- 
ing ; but, when Rychie passes her, she starts forward afresh. 
Now they are nearly beside Katrinka. Hilda is still in advance : 
she is almost ‘‘ home.” She has not faltered since that bugle- 
note sent her flying : like an arrow, still she is speeding toward 
the goal. Cheer after cheer rises in the air. Peter is silent ; 
but his eyes shine like stars. ‘‘ Huzza ! Huzza ! ” 

The crier’s voice is heard again. 

“ Hilda van Gleck, one mile ! ” 

A loud murmur of approval runs through the crowd, catch- 
ing the music in its course, till all seems one sound, with a 
glad, rhythmic throbbing in its depths. When the flag waves, 
all is still. 

Once more the bugle blows a terrific blast. It sends off the 
boys like chaff before the wind, — dark chaff, I admit, and in 
big pieces. 

It is whisked around at the flagstaff, driven faster yet by the 
cheers and shouts along the line. We begin to see what is 
coming. There are three boys in advance, this time, and all 
abreast, — Hans, Peter and Lambert. Carl soon breaks the 
ranks, rushing through with a whiff. Fly, Hans ; fly, Peter : 
don’t let Carl beat again ! — Carl the bitter, Carl the insolent. 
Van Mounen is flagging ; but you are as strong as ever. Hans 
and Peter, Peter and Hans : which is foremost ? We love 
them both. We scarcely care which is the fleeter. 

Hilda, Annie and Gretel, seated upon the long crimson bench, 
can remain quiet no longer. They spring to their feet, so dif- 
ferent ! and yet one in eagerness. Hilda instantly reseats her- 
self: none shall know how interested she is ; none shall know 
how anxious, how filled with one hope. Shut your eyes, then, 
Hilda, hide your face rippling with joy. Peter has beaten. 


362 


Hans Brinker 


‘‘ Peter van Hole, one mile ! ” calls the crier. 

The same buzz of excitement as before, while the judges 
take notes, the same throbbing of music through the din ; but 
something is different. A little crowd presses close about some 
object near the column. Carl has fallen. He is not hurt, 
though somewhat stunned. If he were less sullen, he would 
find more sympathy in these warm young hearts. As it is, 
they forget him as soon as he is fairly on his feet again. 

The girls are to skate their third mile. 

How resolute the little maidens look as they stand in a line ! 
Some are solemn with a sense of responsibility ; some wear a 
smile, half-bashful, half-provoked ; but one air of determination 
pervades them all. 

This third mile may decide the race. Still, if neither Gretel 
nor Hilda win, there is yet a chance among the rest for the 
silver skates. 

Each girl feels sure that, this time, she will accomplish the 
distance in one-half the time. How they stamp to try their 
runners ! How nervously they examine each strap ! How 
erect they stand at last, every eye upon Madame van deck ! 

The bugle thrills through them again. With quivering 
eagerness they spring forward, bending, but In perfect balance. 
Each flashing stroke seems longer than the last. 

Now they are skimming off in the distance. 

Again the eager straining of eyes ; again the shouts and 
cheering ; again the thrill of excitement, as, after a few mo- 
ments, four or five, in advance of the rest, come speeding back, 
nearer, nearer, to the white columns. 

Who is first ? Not Rychie, Katrinka, Annie, nor Hilda, 
nor the girl in yellow, but Gretel, — Gretel, the fleetest sprite 
of a girl that ever skated. She was but playing in the earlier 


or, The Silver Skates 


363 


race : now she is in earnest, or, rather, something within her 
has determined to win. That lithe little form makes no effort ; 
but it cannot stop, — not until the goal is passed ! 

In vain the crier lifts his voice : he cannot be heard. He 
has no news to tell : it is already ringing through the crowd, — 
Crete I has won the silver skates ! 

Like a bird, she has flown over the ice ; like a bird, she 
looks about her in a timid, startled way. She longs to dart to 
the sheltered nook where her father and mother stand. But 
Hans is beside her : the girls are crowding round. Hilda’s 
kind, joyous voice breathes in her ear. From that hour, none 
will despise her. Goose-girl or not, Gretel stands acknowl- 
edged Queen of the Skaters. 

With natural pride, Hans turns to see if Peter van Holp is 
witnessing his sister’s triumph. Peter is not looking toward 
them at all. He is kneeling, bending his troubled face low, 
and working hastily at his skate-strap. Hans is beside him 
at once. 

Are you in trouble, mynheer ? ” 

‘‘ Ah, Hans ! that you ? Yes, my fun is over. I tried to 
tighten my strap, to make a new hole ; and this botheration of 
a knife has cut it nearly in two.^^ 

“ Mynheer,” said Hans, at the same time pulling off a 
skate, “ you must use my strap ! ” 

“ Not I, indeed, Hans Brinker ! ” cried Peter, looking up^ 
‘‘ though I thank you warmly. Go to your post, my friend : 
the bugle will sound in a minute.” 

“ Mynheer,” pleaded Hans, in a husky voice, ‘‘ you have 
called me your friend. Take this strap — quick! There is 
not an instant to lose. I shall net skate this time : indeed, I 
am out of practice. Mynheer, you must take it ; ” and Hans, 


3^4 


Hans Brinker 



blind and deaf to any remonstrance, slipped his strap into 
Peter’s skate, and implored him to put it on. 

Come, Peter ! ” cried Lambert from the line : “ we are 
waiting for you.” 

For madame’s sake,” pleaded Hans, ‘‘be quick ! She is 
motioning to you to join the racers. There, the skate is 
almost on : quick, mynheer, fasten it. I could not possibly 
win. The race lies between Master Schummel and yourself.” 


‘‘TAKE THIS STRAP QUICK!” 

“ You are a noble fellow, Hans ! ” cried Peter, yielding at 
last. He sprang to his post just as the handkerchief fell to the 
ground. The bugle sends forth its blast, loud, clear and ringing. 
Off go the boys I 

“ Mine Gott ! ” cries a tough old fellow from Delft. 
“They beat everything, — these Amsterdam youngsters. 
See them ! ” 


or, The Silver Skates 


365 


See them, indeed ! They are winged Mercuries, every one 
of them. What mad errand are they on ? Ah, I know : they 
are hunting Peter van Holp. He is some fleet-footed runaway 
from Olympus. Mercury and his troop of winged cousins are 
in full chase. They will catch him ! Now Carl is the runa- 
way. The pursuit grows furious. Ben is foremost ! 

The chase turns in a cloud of mist. It is coming this way. 
Who is hunted now ? Mercury himself. It is Peter, Peter 
van Holp ! Fly, Peter ! Hans is watching you. He is send- 
ing all his fleetness, all his strength, into your feet. Your 
mother and sister are pale with eagerness. Hilda is trembling, 
and dare not loak up. Fly, Peter ! The crowd has not gone 
deranged : it is only cheering. The pursuers are close upon 
you. Touch the white column! It beckons; it is reeling 
before you — it — 

Huzza ! Huzza I Peter has won the silver skates ! ” 

“ Peter van Holp I ” shouted the crier. But who heard 
him ? “ Peter van Holp ! ” shouted a hundred voices ; for he 

was the favorite boy of the place. “ Huzza ! Huzza I ” 

Now the music was resolved to be heard. It struck up a 
lively air, then a tremendous march. The spectators, thinking 
something new was about to happen, deigned to listen and to 
look. 

The racers formed in single file. Peter, being tallest, stood 
first. Gretel, the smallest of all, took her place at the end. 
Hans, who had borrowed a strap from the cake-boy, was near 
the head. 

Three gayly twined arches were placed at intervals upon the 
river, facing the Van Gleck pavilion. 

Skating slowly, and in perfect time to the music, the boys 
and girls moved forward, led on by Peter. It was beautiful to 


366 


Hans Brinker 


see the bright procession glide along like a living creature. It 
curved and doubled, and drew its graceful length in and out 
among the arches : whichever way Peter, the head, went, the 
body was sure to follow. Sometimes it steered direct for the 
centre arch ; then, as if seized with a new impulse, turned 
away, and curled itself about the first one ; then unwound 
slowly, and bending low, with quick, snake-like curvings, 
crossed the river, passing at length through the farthest arch. 

When the music was slow, the procession seemed to crawl 
like a thing afraid ; it grew livelier, and the creature darted 
forward with a spring, gliding rapidly among the arches, in 
and out, curling, twisting, turning, never losing form, until, at 
the shrill call of the bugle rising above the music, it suddenly 
resolved itself into boys and girls standing in double semicircle 
before Madame van deck’s pavilion. 

Peter and Gretel stand in the centre, in advance of the 
others. Madame van deck rises majestically. Gretel trem- 
bles, but feels that she must look at the beautiful lady. She 
cannot hear what is said, there is such a buzzing all around her. 
She is thinking that she ought to try and make a courtesy, such 
as her mother makes to the meester^ when suddenly something 
so dazzling is placed in her hand that she gives a cry of joy. 

Then she ventures to look about her. Peter, too, has 
something in his hands. “ Oh, oh ! how splendid ! ” she 
cries ; and “ Oh ! how splendid ! ” is echoed as far as people 
can see. 

Meantime the silver skates flash in the sunshine, throwing 
dashes of light upon those two happy faces. 

Mevrouw van Gend sends a little messenger with her bou- 
quets, — one for Hilda, one for Carl, and others for Peter and 
Gretel. 



PETER HAS WON ! ” 





•• • • ▼ —.1 ^ — 

:-■ ‘ •'iKs4rv^*-iiiLs; ’*r ■ 


T* .A-^ ■ 



-Vi., 






'.rj 




-»• '• 

#* * 1 t^JL.*i 


>. 






3#^ 






or, The Silver Skates 


369 


At sight of the flowers, the Queen of the Skaters becomes 
uncontrollable. With a bright stare of gratitude, she gathers 
skates and bouquet in her apron, hugs them to her bosom, and 
darts off to search for her father and mother in the scattering 
crowd. 


Hans Brinker 


^70 


XLV 

JOY IN THE COTTAGE 

P erhaps you were surprised to learn that RafF and his 
vrouw were at the skating-race : you would have been 
more so, had you been with them on the evening of that 
merry 2Cth of December. To see the Brinker cottage 
standing sulkily alone on the frozen marsh, with its bulgv, 
rheumatic-looking walls, and its slouched hat of a roof pulled 
far over its eyes, one w'ould never suspect that a livelv scene 
was passing within. Without, nothing was left of the day 
but a low line of blaze at the horizon. A few venturesome 
clouds had alreadv taken fire ; and others, with their edges 
burning, were lost in the gathering smoke. 

A stray gleam of sunshine, slipping down from the willow- 
stump, crept stealthilv under the cottage. It seemed to feel 
that the inmates would give it welcome, if it could only get 
near them. The room under which it hid was as clean as 
clean could be. The verv cracks in the rafters were polished. 
Delicious odors filled the air. A huge peat-fire upon the 
hearth sent flashes of harmless lightning at the sombre walls. 
It played, in turn, upon the great leathern Bible, upon Gretel’s 
closet-bed, the household things on their pegs, and the beauti- 
ful silver skates and the flowers upon the table. Dame 
Brinker’s honest face shone and twinkled in the changing 
light. Gretel and Hans, with arms intertwined, were leaning 


cr, The Silver Skates 371 

against the fireplace, laughing merrily; and Raff Brinker was 
dancing ! 

I do not mean that he was pirouetting, or cutting a pigeon- 
wing, either of which would have been entirely too undignified 
for the father of a family: I simply affirm that, while they 
were chatting pleasantly together. Raff suddenly sprang from 
hii seat, snapped^ his fingers, and performed two or three 
flourishes very much like the climax of a Highland fling. 
Next he caught his vrouw in his arms, and fairly lifted her 
from the ground in his delight. 

Huzza ! ” he cried. “ I have it ! I have it ! It ’s T homas 
Higgs. That ’s the name ! It came upon me like a flash. 
Write it down, lad; write it down!” 

Some one knocked at the door. 

It is the meester^^ cried the delighted dame. “ Goede 
Gunst^ how things come to pass ! ” 

Mother and children came in merry collision as they rushed 
to open the door. 

It was not the doctor, after all, but three boys, — Peter van 
Holp, Lambert and Ben. 

“ Good-evening, young gentlemen ! ” said Dame Brinker, 
so happy and proud that she would scarce have been surprised 
at a visit from the king himself. 

“ Good-evening, jufvrouw ! ” said the trio, making magnifi- 
cent bows. 

‘‘ Dear me ! ” thought Dame Brinker as she bobbed up and 
down like a churn-dasher : “ it ’s lucky I learned to courtesy 
at Heidcioerg ! ” 

Raff was content to return the boys’ salutations with a 
respectful nod. 

“ Pray be seated, young masters,” said the dame, as Gretel 


372 


Hans Brinker 


bashfully thrust a stool toward them. “ There ’s a lack of 
chairs, as you see : but this one by the fire is at your service ; 
and, if you don’t mind the hardness, that oak chest is as good 
a seat as the best. — That ’s right, Hans, pull it out.” 

By the time the boys were seated to the dame’s satisfaction, 
Peter, acting as spokesman, had explained that they were 
going to attend a lecture at Amsterdam, and had stopped on 
the way to return Hans’ strap. 

‘‘ Oh, mynheer ! ” cried Hans, earnestly. ‘‘ It is too much 
trouble. I am very sorry.” 

“ No trouble at all, Hans. I could have waited for you 
to come to your work to-morrow, had I not wished to call. 
And, Hans, talking of your work, my father is much pleased 
with it. A carver by trade could not have done it better. 
He would like to have the south arbor ornamented also ; but 
I told him you were going to school again.” 

“ Ay! ” put in Raff Brinker, emphatically, “ Hans must go 
to school at once, and Gretel as well : that is true.” 

“ I am glad to hear you say so,” responded Peter, turning 
toward the father, ‘‘ and very glad to know that you are again 
a well man.” 

‘‘Yes, young master, a well man, and able to work as 
steady as ever, thank God ! ” 

[Here Hans hastily wrote something on the edge of a 
time-worn almanac that hung by the chimney-place.] 

“Ay, that’s right, lad, set it down. Figgs — Wiggs — 
alack, alack ! ” added Raff, in great dismay, “ it ’s gone 
again I ” 

“ All right, father,” said Hans, “ the name ’s down now In 
black and white. Here, look at it, father : mayhap the rest 
will come to you. If we had the place as well, it would be 


or, The Silver Skates 


373 


complete.” Then, turning to Peter, he said in a low tone, 

I have an important errand in town, mynheer ; and if — ” 
Wist ! ” exclaimed the dame, lifting her hands, — “not 
to Amsterdam to-night, and you ’ve owned your legs were 
aching under you. Nay, nay, it ‘11 be soon enough to go at 
early daylight.” 

“ Daylight, indeed ! ” echoed Raff. “ That would never 
do. Nay, Meitje, he must go this hour.” 

The vrouw looked for an instant as if Raff’s recovery was 
becoming rather a doubtful benefit ; her word was no longer 
sole law in the house. Fortunately the proverb, “ Humble 
wife is husband’s boss,” had taken deep root in her mind ; 
even as the dame pondered, it bloomed. 

“ Very well. Raff,” she said smilingly, “ it is thy boy as well 
as mine. Ah ! I ’ve a troublesome house, young masters.” 

Just then Peter drew a long strap from his pocket. 

Handing it to Hans, he said in an undertone, “ I need not 
thank you for lending me this, Hans Brinker. Such boys as 
you do not ask for thanks ; but I must say you did me a great 
kindness, and I am proud to acknowledge it. I did not know,” 
he added laughingly, “ until fairly in the race, how anxious I 
was to win.” 

Hans was glad to join in Peter’s laugh : it covered his 
embarrassment, and gave his face a chance to cool off a little. 
Honest, generous boys like Hans have such a stupid way of 
blushing when you least expect it. 

“ It was nothing, mynheer,” said the dame, hastening to 
her son’s relief. “The lad’s whole soul was in having you 
win the race : I know it was.” 

This helped matters beautifully. 

“ Ah, mynheer ! ” Hans hurried to say, “ from the first 


374 


H ans Brinker 


start 1 felt stiff and strange on my feet. I was well out of it, 
so long as I had no chance of winning.” 

Peter looked rather distressed. 

‘‘We may hold different opinions there. That part of the 
business troubles me. It is too late to mend it now ; but it 
would be really a kindness to me if — ” 

The rest of Peter’s speech was uttered so confidentially 
that I cannot record it. Enough to say, Hans soon started 
back in dismay ; and Peter, looking very much ashamed, 
stammered out something to the effect that he would keep 
them, since he won the race ; but it was “ all wrong.” ' 

Here Van Mounen coughed, as if to remind Peter that 
lecture-hour was approaching fast. At the same moment Ben 
laid something upon the table. 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed Peter, “ I forgot my other errand. Your 
sister ran off so quickly to-day that Madame van deck had 
no opportunity to give her the case for her skates.” 

“ S-s-t ! ” said Dame Brinker, shaking her he^ reproach- 
fully at Gretel, “ she was a very rude girl, I ’m sure.” [Secretly 
she was thinking that very few women had such a fine little 
daughter.] 

“ No, indeed ! ” laughed Peter : “ she did exactly the right 
thing, — ran home with her hard-won treasures: who would 
not ? — Don’t let us detain you, Hans,” he continued, turning 
as he spoke ; but Hans, who was eagerly watching the father, 
seemed to have forgotten their presence. 

Meantime, Raff, lost in thought, was repeating under his 
breath, “ Thomas Higgs, Thomas Higgs ; ay, that ’s the name. 
Alack ! if I could but tell the place as well.” 

The skate-case was elegantly made of crimson morocco, 
ornamented with silver. If a fairy had breathed upon its tiny 


or, The Silver Skates 


375 


key, or Jack Frost himself designed its delicate tracery, they 
could not have been more daintily beautiful. For the fleet- 
est was written upon the cover in sparkling letters. It was 
lined with velvet ; and in one corner was stamped the name 
and address of the maker. 

Gretel thanked Peter in her own simple way ; then being 
quite delighted and confused, and not knowing what else to do, 
lifted the case, carefully examining it in every part. “ It ’s 
made by Mynheer Birmingham,” she said after a while, still 
blushing, and holding it before her eyes. 

Birmingham ! ” replied Lambert van Mounen : “ that ’s 
the name of a place in England. Let me see it.” 

Ha, ha ! ” he laughed, holding the open case toward the 
firelight, ‘‘ no wonder you thought so. But it ’s a slight mis- 
take. The case was made at Birmingham ; but the maker’s 
name is in smaller letters. Humph ! they ’re so small I can’t 
read them.” 

“ Let me^rv,” said Peter, leaning over his shoulder. Why, 
man, it ’s perfectly distinct. It ’s T — H — it ’s T — ” 

Well,” exclaimed Lambert, triumphantly, “ if you can read 
it so easilv, let ’s hear it. T — H, what ? ” 

T, H — T, H. Oh ! why, Thomas Higgs, to be sure,” 
replied Peter, pleased to be able to decipher it at last. Then, 
feeling they had been behaving rather unceremoniously, he 
turned toward Hans. 

Peter turned pale. What was the matter with the people ? 
Raff and Hans had started up, and were staring at him in glad 
amazement. Gretel looked wild. Dame Brinker, with an 
unlighted candle in her hand, was rushing about the room, 
crying, “ Hans, Hans ! where ’s your hat ? Oh, the meester ! 
oh, the meester ! ” 


376 


Hans Brinker 


Birmingham ! Higgs ! ” exclaimed Hans. Did you say 
Higgs We Ve found him ! I must be off.” 

“ You see, young masters,” panted the dame, at the same 
time snatching Hans’ hat from the bed, ‘‘ you see — we know 
him. He’s our — no, he isn’t — I mean — oh, Hans, you 
must go to Amsterdam this minute ! ” 

“ Good-night, mynheers ! ” panted Hans, radiant with sudden 
joy, — ‘‘good-night! You will excuse me, I must go. 
Birmingham — Higgs — Higgs — Birmingham I ” And, seiz- 
ing his hat from his mother, and his skates from Gretel, he 
rushed from the cottage. 

What could the bovs think, but that the entire Brinker 
family had gone suddenly crazy ? 

They bade an embarrassed “ good-evening,^’ and turned to 
go. But Raff stopped them. 

“This Thomas Higgs, young masters, is a — a person.” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed Peter, quite sure that Raff was the most 
crazy of all. 

“Yes, a person — a — ahem I — a friend. We thought 
him dead. I hope it is the same man. In England, did you 
say ” 

“Yes, Birmingham,” answered Peter: “it must be Bir- 
mingham in England.” 

“ I know the man,” said Ben, addressing Lambert. “ His 
factory is not four miles from our place. A queer fellow, still 
as an oyster. Don’t seem at all like an Englishman. I ’ve 
often seen him, — a solemn-looking chap, with magnificent 
eyes. He made a beautiful writing-case once for me to give 
Jenny on her birthday. Makes pocket-books, telescope-cases, 
and all kinds of leather work.” 

As this was said in English, Van Mounen, of course, trans- 


or, The Silver Skates 


377 


lated it for the benefit of all concerned, noticing meanwhile 
that neither Raff nor his vrouw looked very miserable, though 
Raff was trembling, and the dame’s eyes were swimming with 
tears. 

You may believe the doctor heard every word of the story, 
when, later in the evening, he came driving back with Hans. 

The three young gentlemen had been gone some time,” 
Dame Brinker said ; but like enough, by hurrying, it would 
be easy to find them coming out from the lecture, wherever 
that was.” 

“True,” said Raff, nodding his head : “the vrouw always 
hits upon the right thing. It would be well to see the young 
English gentleman, mynheer, before he forgets all about 
Thomas Higgs. It’s a slippery name, d’ ye see ? One can’t 
hold it safe a minute. It come upon me sudden and stiong 
as a pile-driver, and my boy writ it down. Ay, mynheer, I ’d 
haste to talk with the English lad. He ’s seen your son many 
a time — only to think on ’t ! ” 

Dame Brinker, raising her hands eagerly, took up the thread 
of the discourse. 

“ You’ll pick out the lad quick enough, mynheer, because 
he ’s in company with Master Peter van Holp ; and his hair 
curls all up over his forehead, like foreign folk’s ; and, if you 
hear him speak, he talks kind of big and fast, only it ’s English ; 
but that wouldn’t be any hinderance to your honor.” 

The doctor had already lifted his hat to go. With a beam- 
ing face, he muttered something about its being just like the 
young scamp to give himself a rascally English name ; called 
Hans “ my son,” thereby making that young gentleman happy 
as a lord ; and left the cottage with very little ceremony, con- 
sidering what a great meester he was. 


378 


Hans Brinker 


The grumbling coachman comforted himself by speaking his 
mind as he drove back to Amsterdam. Since the doctor was 
safely stowed away in the coach, and could not hear a word, it 
was a fine time to say terrible things of folks, who hadn’t no 
manner of feeling for nobody, and who were always wanting 
the horses a dozen times of a night. 


or, I'he Silver Skates 


379 


XLVI 

THE MYSTERY OF THOMAS HIGGS 

T TIGGS ’ factory vyas a mine of delight for the gossips of 
Birmingham. It was a small building, but quite large 
enough to hold a mystery. Who the proprietor was, or where 
he came from, none could tell. He looked like a gentleman, 
that was certain, though everybody knew he had risen from an 
apprenticeship ; and he could handle his pen like a writing- 
master. 

Years ago he had suddenly appeared in the place, a lad of 
eighteen ; learned his trade faithfully, and risen in the con- 
fidence of his employer; been taken in as a partner soon after 
his time was up ; and finally, when old Willett died, had 
assumed the business on his own account. This was all that 
was known of his affairs. 

It was a common remark among some of the good people 
that he never had a word to say to a Christian soul ; while 
others declared, that though he spoke beautiful, when he 
chose to, there was something wrong in his accent. A tidy 
man, too, they called him, all but for having that scandalous 
green pond alongside of his factory, which wasn’t deep enough 
for an eel, and was just a fever-nest, as sure as you live.” 

His nationality was a great puzzle. The English nam.e 
spoke plain enough for one side of his house ; but of what 


380 


Hans Brinker 


manner of nation was his mother ? If she ’d been an Amer- 
ican, he ’d certain have had high cheek-bones and reddish skin j 
if a German, he would have known the language, and Squire 
Smith declared he didn’t ; if French (and his having that 
frog-pond made it seem likely), it would come out in his 
speech. No, there was nothing he could be but Dutch. And, 
strangest of ail, though the man always pricked up his ears 
when you talked of Holland, he didn’t seem to know the first 
thing about the country when you put him to the point. 

Anyhow, as no letters ever came to him from his mother’s 
family in Holland, and as nobody living had ever seen old 
Higgs, the family couldn’t be anything much. Probably 
Thoriias Higgs himself was no better than he should be, for all 
he pretended to carry himself so straight ; and, for their parts, 
the gossips declared they were not going to trouble their heads 
about him. Consequently Thomas Higgs and his affairs were 
never-failing subjects of discussion. 

Picture, then, the consternation among all the good people, 
when it was announced by “ somebody who was there, and 
ought to know,” that the post-boy had that very morning 
handed Higgs a foreign-looking letter; and the man had 
turned as white as the wall, rushed to his factory, talked a 
bit with one of the head-workmen, and, without bidding a 
creature good-bye, was off bag and baggage before you could 
wink, ma’am.” Mistress Scrubbs, his landlady, was in deep 
affliction. The dear soul became quite out of breath while 
speaking of him. “To leave lodgin’s in that suddent way, 
without never so much as a day’s warnin’, which was what 
every woman who didn’t wish to be trodden under foot (which, 
thank Hewing ! wasn’t her way) had a perfect right to expect, 
— yes, and a week’s warnin’, now you mention it; and with- 


or, The Silver Skates 


381 



THE INVESTIGATING COMMITTEE. 


out even so much as sayin’, ‘Many thanks to you, Mistress 
Scrubbs, for all past kindnesses,’ which was most numerous, 
though she said it, who shouldn’t say it, — leastwise she wasn’t 
never no kind of a person to be lookin’ for thanks every 
minnit. It was really scanderlous, though, to be sure. Mister 
’iggs paid up everythin’ to the last farthin’ ; and it fairly 
brought tears to her eyes to see his dear empty boots lyin’ 
there in the corner of his room, which alone showed trouble 
of mind ; for he always stood ’em up astraight as solgers. 


382 


Hans Brinker 


though, bein’ half-soled twice, they hadn’t, of course, been 
worth talcin’ away.” 

Whereupon her dearest friend. Miss Scrumpkins, ran home 
to tell all about it. And, as everybody knew the Scrump- 
kinses, a shining gossamer of news was soon woven from one 
end of the street to the other. 

An investigating committee met that evening at Mrs. Snig- 
ham’s, sitting, in secret session, over her best china. Though 
invited only to a quiet “tea,” the amount of judicial business 
they transacted on the occasion was prodigious. The biscuits 
were actually cold before the committee had a chance to eat 
anything. There was so much to talk over, and it was so 
important that it should be firmly established that each member 
had always been “ certain sure that something extraordinary 
would be happening to that man yet,” that it was near eight 
o’clock before Mrs. Snigham gave anybody a second cup. 


or. The Silver Skates 


383 


XLVII 

BROAD SUNSHINE 

O NE snowy day in January, Laurens Boekman went with 
his father to pay his respects to the Brinker family. 
Raff was resting after the labors of the day. Gretel, having 
filled and lighted his pipe, was brushing every speck of ash from 
the hearth. The dame was spinning ; and Hans, perched upon 
a stool by the window, was diligently studying his lessons. 
A peaceful, happy household, whose main excitement during 
the past week had been the looking forward to this possible 
visit from Thomas Higgs. 

As soon as the grand presentation was over. Dame Brinker 
insisted upon giving her guests some hot tea. “ It was enough 
to freeze any one,” she said, “ to be out in such crazy, bluster- 
ing weather.” While they were talking with her husband, she 
whispered to Gretel that the young gentleman’s eyes and her 
boy’s were certainly as much alike as four beans, to say 
nothing of a way they both had of looking as if they were 
stupid, and yet knew as much as a body’s grandfather. 

Gretel was disappointed. She had looked forward to a 
tragic scene, such as Annie Bouman had often described to 
her from story-books ; and here was the gentleman who came 
so near being a murderer, who for ten years had been wander- 
ing over the face of the earth, who had believed himself 
deserted and scorned by his father, the very young gentleman 


3^4 


Hans Brinker 


who had fled from his country in such magnificent trouble, 
sitting by the fire just as pleasant and natural as could be ! 

To be sure, his voice had trembled when he talked with 
her parents ; and he had met his father’s look with a bright 
kind of smile that would have suited a dragon-killer bringing 
the waters of perpetual youth to his king; but, after all, he 
wasn’t at all like the conquered hero in Annie’s book. He 
did not say, lifting his hand toward heaven, ‘‘ I hereby swear 
to be forever faithful to my home, my God, and my country,” 
which would have been only right and proper under the 
circumstances. 

All things considered, Gretel was disappointed. Raff, how- 
ever, was perfectly satisfied. The message was delivered ; 
Dr. Boekman had his son safe and sound ; and the poor lad 
had done nothing sinful, after all, except in thinking his father 
would have abandoned him for an accident. To be sure, the 
graceful stripling had become rather a heavy man. RalF had 
unconsciously hoped to clasp that same boyish hand again ; 
but all things were changed to Raff, for that matter. So he 
pushed back every feeling but joy, as he saw father and son 
sitting side by side at his hearthstone. Meantime Hans was 
wholly occupied in the thought of Thomas Higgs’ happiness 
in being able to be the meester's assistant again ; and Dame 
Brinker was sighing softly to herself, wishing that the lad’s 
mother were alive to see him, — such a fine young gentleman 
as he was, — and wondering how Dr. Boekman could bear to 
see the silver watch getting so dull. He had worn it ever 
since Raff handed it over, that was evident. What had he 
done with the gold one he used to wear ? 

The light was shining full upon Dr. Boekman’s face. 
How contented he looked ! how much younger and brighter 


or, The Silver Skates 385 

tnan rbrmerly ! The hard lines were quite melting away. 
He was laughing, as he said to the father, — 

“ Am 1 not a happy man. Raff Brinker ? My son will sell 
out his factory this month, and open a warehouse in Amster- 
dam. I shall have all my spectacle-cases for nothing.” 

Hans started from his revery. “ A warehouse, mynheer ! 
And will Thomas Higgs — I mean is your son not to be your 
assistant again ? ” 

A shade passed over the meester*s face ; but he brightened 
with an effort, as he replied, — 

“ Oh, no ! Laurens has had quite enough of that. He 
wishes to be a merchant.” 

Hans appeared so surprised and disappointed that his friend 
asked good-naturedly, — 

‘‘Why so silent, boy ? Is it any disgrace to be a merchant ? ” 

“ N — not a disgrace, mynheer,” stammered Hans ; “ but — ” 

“ But what ? ” 

“ Why, the other calling is so much better,” answered 
Hans, “ so much nobler. I think, mynheer,” he added, 
kindling with enthusiasm, “ that to be a surgeon, to cure the 
sick and crippled, to save human life, to be able to do what 
you have done for my father, is the grandest thing on earth.” 

The doctor was regarding him sternly. Hans felt rebuked. 
His cheeks were flushed : hot tears were gathering under his 
lashes. 

“ It is an ugly business, boy, this surgery,” said the doctor, 
still frowning at Hans ; “ it requires great patience, self-denial 
and perseverance.” 

“ I am sure it does,” cried Hans, kindling again. “ It 
calls for wisdom too, and a reverence for God’s work. Ah, 
mynheer, it may have its trials and drawbacks; but you do 

\ 


386 


H ans Brinker 


not mean what you say. It is great and noble, not ugly ! 
Pardon me, mynheer. It is not for me to speak so boldly.” 

Dr. Boekman was evidently displeased. He turned his 
back on the boy, and conferred aside with Laurens. Mean- 
while the dame scowled a terrible warning at Hans. These 
great people, she knew well enough, never like to hear poor 
folk speak up so pert. 

The meester turned around. 

‘‘ How old are you, Hans Brinker ? ” 

“ Fifteen, mynheer,” was the startled reply. 

Would you like to become a physician ? ” 

“ Yes, mynheer,” answered Hans, quivering with excite- 
ment. 

“Would you be willing, with your parents’ consent, to 
devote yourself to study, to go to the University, and, in time, 
be a student in my office ? ” 

“ YES, mynheer.” 

“ You would not grow restless, think you, and change 
your mind just as I had set my heart upon preparing you to 
be my successor ? ” 

Hans’ eyes flashed. 

“ No, mynheer ! I would not change.” 

“You may believe him there,” cried the dame, who could 
remain quiet no longer. “ Hans is like a rock, when once he 
decides ; and as for study, mynheer, the child has almost 
grown fast to his books, of late. He can jumble off Latin 
already, like any priest.” 

The doctor smiled. “ Well, Hans, I see nothing to 
prevent us from carrying out this plan, if your father agrees.” 

“ Ahem ! ” said Raff, too proud of his boy to be very 
meek. “ The fact is, mynheer, I prefer an active, out-of- 


or. The Silver Skates 


387 


door life myself. But if the lad ’s inclined to study for a 
ineester^ and he ’d have the benefit of your good word to push 
him on in the world, it’s all one to me. The money’s all 
that ’s a-wanting ; but it mightn’t be long with two strong 
pair of arms to earn it, before we — ” 



“WOULD YOU LIKE TO BECOME A PHYSICIAN?” 


“Tut, tut!” interrupted the doctor. “If I take your 
right-hand man away, I must pay the cost ; and glad enough 
shall I be to do it. It will be like having two sons, eh, 



388 


Hans Brinker 


Laurens ? — one a merchant, and the other a surgeon. I 
shall be the happiest man in Holland. Come to me in the 
morning, Hans, and we will arrange matters at once.” 

Hans bowed assent. He dared not trust himself to speak. 

‘‘ And, Brinker,” continued the doctor, “ my son Laurens 
will need a trusty, ready man like you, when he opens his 
warehouse in Amsterdam ; some one to overlook matters, and 
see that the lazy clowns round about the place do their duty ; 
some one to — Why don’t you tell him yourself, you 
rascal ! ” 

This last was addressed to the son, and did not sound half 
as fierce as it looks in print. The rascal and Raff soon under- 
stood each other perfectly. 

I ’m loath to leave the dikes,” said the latter, after they 
had talked together a while ; ‘‘ but you have made me such a 
good offer, mynheer, I ’d be robbing my family if I let it go 
past me.” 

Take a long look at Hans as he stands there staring -grate- 
fully at the meester ; for you shall not see him again for many 
a year. 

And Gretel — ah, what a vista of puzzling work suddenly 
opens before her! Yes, for dear Hans’ sake she will study 
now. If he really is to be a meester^ his sister must not shame 
his greatness. 

How faithfully those glancing eyes shall yet seek for the 
jewels that lie hidden in rocky school-books I And how they 
shall yet brighten and droop at the coming of one whom she 
knows of now only as the boy who wore a red cap on that 
wonderful day when she found the silver skates in her 
apron I 


or. The Silver Skates 38^ 

But the doctor and Laurens are going. Dame Brinker is 
making her best courtesy. RafF stands beside her, looking 
every inch a man as he grasps the meesters hand. Through 
the open cottage-door, we can look out upon the level Dutch 
landscape, all alive with the falling snow. 


390 


Hans Brinker 


CONCLUSION 

O UR story is nearly told. 7'ime passes in Holland just 
as surely and steadily as here : in that respect, no 
country is odd. 

To the Brinker family it has brought great changes. Hans 
has spent the years faithfully and profitably, conquering obsta- 
cles as they arose, and pursuing one object with all the energy 
of his nature. If often the way has been rugged, his resolu- 
tion has never failed. Sometimes he echoes, with his good 
old friend, the words said long ago in that little cottage near 
Broek, “ Surgery is an ugly business ; ” but always in his 
heart of hearts lingers the echo of those truer words, It is 
great and noble : it awakes a reverence for God’s work.” 

Were you in Amsterdam to-day, you might see the famous 
Dr. Brinker riding in his grand coach to visit his patients ; or, 
it might be, you would see him skating with his own boys and 
girls upon the frozen canal. For Annie Bouman, the beauti- 
ful, frank-hearted peasant-girl, you would inquire in vain : but 
Annie Brinker, the vrouiv of the great physician, is very like 
her ; only, as Hans says, she is even lovelier, wiser, more like 
a fairy godmother, than ever. 

Peter van Holp, also, is a married man. I could have told 
you before that he and Hilda would join hands, and glide 
through life together, just as, years ago, they skimmed side 
by side over the frozen, sunlit river. 


or. The Silver Skates 


391 



A 

DR. BRINKER WITH HIS BOYS AND GIRLS. 

Katrinka is not quite so merry as formerly ; and, I grieve 
to say, some of the tinkling bells are out of tune. But she 
is the life of her social circle still. I wish she would be in 
earnest, just for a little while ; but no, it is not her nature. 
Her cares and sorrows do nothing more than disturb the tink- 
ling : they never waken any deeper music. 


Hans Brinker 


392 

Rychie’s soul has been stirred to its depths during these long 
years. Her history would tell how seed carelessly sown is 
sometimes reaped in anguish, and how a golden harvest may 
follow a painful planting. If I mistake not, you may be able 
to read the written record before long ; that is, if you are 
familiar with the Dutch language. In the witty but earnest 
author, whose words are welcomed at this day in thousands of 
Holland homes, few could recognize the haughty, flippant 
Rychie, who scoffed at little Gretel. 

Lambert van Mounen and Ludwig van Holp are good 
Christian men, and, what is more easily to be seen at a glance, 
thriving citizens. Both are dwellers in Amsterdam j but one 
clings to the old city of that name, and the other is a pilgrim 
to the new. Van Mounen’s present home is not far from the 
Central Park; and he says, if the New Yorkers do their duty, 
the Park will in time equal his beautiful Bosch, near the 
Hague. He often thinks of the Katrinka of his boyhood ; but 
he is glad now that Katrinka the woman sent him away, 
though it seemed at the time his darkest hour. 

Carl Schummel has had a hard life. His father met with * 
reverses in business ; and as Carl had not many warm friends, 
and, above all, was not sustained by noble principles, he has 
been tossed about by fortune’s battledore, until his gayest 
feathers are nearly all knocked off. He is a book-keeper in the 
thriving Amsterdam house of Boekman and Schimmelpenninck. 
Voostenwalbert, the junior partner, treats him kindly ; and he, 
in turn, is very respectful to the ‘‘ monkey with a long name 
for a tail.” 

Of all our group of Holland friends, Jacob Poot is the only 
one who has passed away. Good-natured, true-hearted and 
unselfish to the last, he is mourned now as heartily as he wa? 


or. The Silver Skates 


393 


loved and laughed at while on earth. He grew to be very thin 
before he died, — thinner than Benjamin Dobbs, who is now 
portliest among the portly. 

Raff Brinker and his vrouiv have been living comfortably In 
Amsterdam for many years, a faithful, happy pair, as simple 
and straightforward in their good fortune as they were patient 
and trustful in darker days. They have a %omerhuis near the 
old cottage; and thither they often repair with their children 
and grandchildren on pleasant summer afternoons, when the 
pond-lilies rear their queenly heads above the water. 

The story of Hans Brinker would be but half told, if we did 
not leave him with Gretel standing near. Dear, quick, patient 
little Gretel ! What is she now ? Ask old Dr. Boekman : 
he will declare she is the finest singer, the loveliest woman, in 
Amsterdam. Ask Hans and Annie : they will assure you she 
is the dearest sister ever known. Ask her husband, — he 
who wore the red cap on the day of the grand skating-race : 
you will learn that she is the brightest, sweetest little wife in 
Holland. Ask Dame Brinker and Raff : their eyes will 
glisten with joyous tears. Ask the poor: the air will be 
filled with blessings. 

But, lest you forget a tiny form trembling and sobbing on 
the mound before the Brinker cottage, ask the Van Glecks : 
they will never weary telling of the darling little girl who won 
the silver skates. 






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